


What To Expect

by Arsenic



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2020-12-31 21:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Mikey has his band, and his little girl, and that's enough. Really, it is.





	What To Expect

**Author's Note:**

> "You should probably tell the guys."
> 
> AN: This was started before Bob and MCR parted ways and before Frank announced Jamia's pregnancy. Canon is based accordingly.

**Bonus Tracks/Enhanced Content**

**Fanart:** [What To Expect](http://arsenicjade.livejournal.com/817092.html), by d_saint

**Fanmix(es):** [No More Sad Songs](http://arsenicjade.livejournal.com/817374.html), by mcrdrugist

****Mikey was on the phone before he even reached the bus, pretending not to panic. He called Alicia every night after a show, so the fact that she'd texted him, "cll me aftr," had him a little anxious. She picked up within two rings and he had to yell over the noise of the venue, "Hey, sorry, almost on the bus!"

She said, "Jesus, yeah, okay."

When he made it, he went straight for the back lounge. "I got your text."

"I'd kinda guessed," she said, and then didn't say anything else.

He waited for a while, but when he was actually starting to think someone might have died, he asked, "Liesh?"

"I'm pregnant," she said, short and sharp and not at all like Mikey remembered Lyn being when she'd realized Bandit was on the way.

Mikey blinked. "Oh. Um. Is this not-- Are you not happy?"

Alicia sighed. "Mikes, you know about me and kids."

Mikey did. Alicia liked them just fine so long as she could return them within a couple of hours. Mikey had always thought he was the same way, except now, now that it was a real decision, he wasn't so sure. One thing he was sure of, though, "It's your body, baby."

Softly, she said, "Yeah. Um, yeah, I kinda made the decision that you got a say in this when I called you. I had a choice not to."

"Oh," Mikey said again. "When's it, uh-- How long?"

"Best guess, June. Maybe July. My mom says first babies are generally late. I don't know, I haven't seen a doctor."

"You have Warped."

"Yeah, Mikey, I know my schedule." She didn't sound mad, though, just tired.

"Right, yeah." The problem was, Mikey had actually asked a lot of Alicia over the course of their marriage. She had always been the one to compromise when it came down to it. More often than not her career choices came second to his, and she'd given up some amazing offers to stay with him through the worst of his manic fits, until they had finally found the right combinations of meds.

He wasn't sure he could ask this of her, too. He wasn't sure he _should_. Gerard had turned out to be a pretty good dad, but Mikey wasn't convinced that was genetic. For all Mikey knew, he could be a completely shit father. Objectively considering the facts, he probably _would_ be. And if Alicia wasn't one hundred percent in this, Mikey figured he probably had to make up for that--be, like, one hundred and thirty six percent in it, or whatever.

"Mikey?" Alicia asked.

Mikey couldn't help thinking of Bandit's first few months: Gerard teaching the whole band to change diapers, and all five of them taking naps at odd hours because they were trying to work around Gerard's schedule. Gerard and Lindsey's house had always smelled of baby spit up and antiseptic soap and laundry. Gerard made mixes of classical music and all of the band's punk and rock influences because, "I know, I know the classical's supposed to make her smart, but look, I want her to have taste, y'know? She can't come into her musical awareness being close-minded."

As she got older, Bandit discovered the awesome joy of pushing peas up her nose, getting into everything that wasn't locked up, and being hit-or-miss (literally) at figuring out the whole potty thing. And Mikey loved her, even when she was being a spoiled brat.

"Liesh," he said. "Um."

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I had a feeling you were going to say that."

Because he felt he owed it to her to actually ask it of her, if he was going to ask, he said, "Let's keep the baby, okay?"

There was a long pause and then she said, "Okay. But no telling anyone until three months. That way, if anything happens, we don't have to explain, and stuff."

"Anything happens?"

"Things happen. Especially in the first few months. So, just, on the DL, okay?"

"Okay," Mikey agreed. "Sure. DL."

*

Alicia emailed Mikey the sonogram pictures at three months with a note: "You should probably tell the guys."

Mikey stared at the picture for a long time, his eyes tracing the outline of what was kind of sort of a baby. Then he said, "I'm gonna be a dad," like saying it aloud made it real, rather than Alicia telling him, or the picture in front of him, or any of the more significant moments in this (fairly short) journey.

Gerard, who was sitting at the other end of the lounge couch, said, "Huh?"

Mikey had actually forgotten he wasn't alone, so he looked up and blinked at Gerard several times. "Oh."

"What did you just say?" Gerard asked.

Mikey reached out and tugged Gerard closer. It didn't take much force. One pull and Gerard came easily, curling into his side. Mikey pointed at the screen. "Mine."

"Oh my-- Oh my G-d, Mikey, fucking-- Guys! Hey, assholes, come back here!"

"I thought I told you I wasn't responding to pejoratives anymore," Frank said as he ambled in.

Gerard said, "This is bigger than your rules of bus etiquette, Frank Anthony."

"Is that a metaphor?" Ray asked, and Bob just rolled his eyes as he came in behind them. Gerard gestured frantically for them to come over.

Gerard pointed at the screen and said, "Look what Mikey did!"

Mikey felt a little bit like he'd just made an A in art history, or some shit like that, but he didn't really have a better way to explain it, so whatever. Frank said, "Whoa. Shit. You did that with your own hands?"

Bob smacked Frank upside the head. Ray looked at Bob and said, "You were the one who was supposed to give him The Talk."

"I got distracted," Bob said, thoroughly unmenaced. "For a few years."

Mikey ignored the banter. He traced the figure on screen with a finger. "Baby."

"Yup. Human to all evidences, too," Frank said, tilting his head as though to get a better look. Bob hit him again, in the same place. Frank said, "Ow."

Gerard peered closer and asked, "Uh, three months, right? That's what the notation says."

Mikey nodded. "She didn't want--"

Gerard shook his head. "No, man, you shouldn't. Things get fucked up early on."

Mikey nodded again, his gaze still on the picture. "It's awfully, uh. Squishy."

"Bandit was squishy too," Gerard told him earnestly. "You remember, I showed you."

"Yeah, just--" Just, it felt different, knowing that the squishy thing that needed to harden up was made from _himself_. Mikey wasn't sure he had enough hard parts himself to pass on to someone else.

"It's perfect," Gerard said. "You'll see. Totally perfect."

Mikey was glad Gerard was always so confident about the big things. It made it easy to follow his lead.

*

Elina Bryce Way was born on a New Jersey fourth of July so hot that even at three in the morning, when she--finally--came, Gerard and Frank were refusing to leave the air conditioning of the hospital even to smoke. Or so they told Mikey, afterward. He'd been busy letting Alicia break most of the bones in his right hand and tell him what an asshole he was. He totally, _totally_ agreed.

He'd been awake all twenty-nine hours of the labor, and another twelve or so before that, but he couldn't stop staring at Ebby--as Alicia'd already dubbed her--through the window. She was just one among thirteen babies, and Mikey had never really seen much difference in babies before, but her nose reminded him of Elena for no good reason, and he could not, for the life of him, stop staring.

At some point, Gerard came and dragged him away. "I've been ordered to get you showered and presentable for when your wife wakes up."

"I don't think that's gonna make her like me any more," Mikey admitted, going pale at the thought of how much Alicia had cursed. Mikey had seen Alicia break her foot in a freak tech accident and do nothing more than grunt and let out a, "Motherfucker."

Gerard squeezed the back of Mikey's neck. "Yeah, well, can't hurt to try. C'mon, the guys are right behind. I may not be able to drag you out of here on my own, but I'm pretty sure the four of us could manage."

Gerard drove them back to Mikey's place, where Mikey took a cold shower. Just the walk in from the car had been enough to make him feel gross. He changed clothes and took the cup of iced coffee Bob handed him when he walked into the kitchen. Frank pushed him down into a chair and Ray slid a plate with a sandwich in front of him. Mikey said, "I'm not--"

Bob said, "Eat, Mikes."

It was kind of hard to argue with monosyllabic Bob even when Mikey wasn't exhausted and worried that his wife was never going to forgive him, so he tried a bite, only to realize that he was fucking starving. "Oh."

The guys all laughed, but Mikey didn't have the energy to make a face at them. When he was finished, Gerard hauled him out of the chair and said, "C'mon, you should be there when Alicia wakes up."

Mikey wasn't sure how Alicia would feel about that, but it seemed like a better plan than _not_ being there, so he followed Gerard back out to the car. He fell asleep on the way to the hospital, and then again while he was sitting in the room, waiting for Alicia to wake up. That time, he woke to the sound of Ebby crying, alert in an instant, asking, "What's wrong?"

Alicia rolled her eyes at him, which probably would have looked more fierce had she not still had bruises beneath them. Mikey was cowed, all the same. She said, "She's hungry."

"Oh, right." Then, "_Oh._"

Mikey felt all again like he shouldn't look, like back when she was just their super hot bass tech and Mikey was the awkward guy who was mostly in the band because his brother was the lead singer. He looked anyway, he couldn't help it. It was amazing, like realizing a painting you'd looked at a million times before had a color, a theme you'd never noticed. He couldn't take his eyes away.

Alicia said, "I think breast implants would have been less hassle."

Mikey looked up at her and grinned. She rolled her eyes again, but she was smiling too.

*

_Twenty-seven months later_

It took nearly fifteen minutes to get Ebby in the carseat. She had started resisting a while back, having figured out that everyone else was allowed to ride without one, even her cousin Bandit. Mikey finally managed and then ran around to the driver's seat, muttering, "Duck, duckduckduck," all the way there. It didn't have quite the same ameliorative effect as actually swearing, but he'd finally broken the habit and he wasn't going to risk starting up again.

He drove as crazily as he was willing to with Ebby in the car--not very--but they were still a good half an hour before getting to the drop site. Alicia'd called about ten minutes before the bus had arrived, and Mikey had rushed them out of the door. She wouldn't have been waiting for all that long, but she'd been on tour for four months, so it felt pretty lame to be late picking her up.

She was sitting on the stairs of the nearest building when he got there, and he was saying sorry before he was even really out of the car. She smiled at him, looking tired but content in a way that she hadn't when she'd left. Then she'd just looked tired. Mikey didn't think about it too much, or at least, he told himself he didn't. He was too glad to have her back. He took her bags, and asked, "You hungry?"

"Starving," she said. He leaned down to kiss her and she opened up to him.

Alicia climbed in the car and Mikey went around to the driver's seat. Alicia had turned in her seat and was saying, "Hey there, kiddo. What you been up to?"

Ebby let loose a stream of words and sounds that were only partially English, but they involved a lot of, "Ma!" so Mikey felt confident she had a good grasp of the situation.

"Yeah," Alicia said, her voice low, husky like she was coming down with a cold. She probably wasn't. They all sounded like that after tours. "Yeah, Ma."

"What do you want to eat?"

"Something that takes longer than fifteen minutes and doesn't come from behind a counter."

Mikey understood, but, "She's not really good at the whole sitting in restaurants thing yet. I can take you guys home and go out and get something."

Alicia stared out the window for a moment. Mikey didn't interrupt. Transition was hard, coming down from the road, from pretty much only having your band to answer to. After a bit she said, "Yeah. Yeah, that'll work."

"Animal, vegetable or mineral?"

Alicia laughed, a short sound. "Animal, definitely animal."

"I'll make it worth your while," he told her, possibly with a little bit more double entendre than he should have with his two-year-old sitting in the back. Ebby giggled, but judging from his glance in the rearview mirror, Mikey was pretty sure that was just because she'd hit herself in the face with one of her plushies.  
Alicia laughed again, none of the easy joy that was in Ebby's. "I bet you will."

Mikey took one hand off the steering wheel and tucked it behind her neck. She didn't pull away, at least, not for a few minutes. Mikey took the chance to rub his thumb over the back of her neck, and tried not to pay attention to the way she fell into the touch, rather than easing or even arching into it.

*

Alicia'd only been home a few days when she said, "I'm going out again. Three months, one of them overseas."

It was ten o'clock in the morning; Ebby was down for a nap. Mikey looked at her and said, "Oh." He wished he felt more surprised. He tried to feel it, just so that he wouldn't have to feel like this, resigned and cold and a little empty.

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Mikey wasn't sure what to say to that, so he kept quiet. He didn't want to fight. They were both too tired for it, and yelling would only wake Ebby. She said, "It's not--"

Her breath caught and Mikey looked over at her. She was pressing her lips together in the way she did when she didn't want to cry, was so sure she was too tough. Mikey touched her, which was possibly a little cruel, since he knew it would break her. She gasped, and tears tumbled over her lashes. "Fuck. Fuck you."

"Yeah," Mikey said, because she wasn't mad, not really. She was sad, deep and wide and like Mikey, when she'd found him. She said, "It's not that I don't love you guys," in between sobs. She wasn't even bothering to try and control it now. She wasn't looking at him, either, but he understood that.

"No," Mikey said. He knew she loved them. He also knew all the times when love was just an element of what had to be present to keep things working, whole.

"It's just--" She drew in a huge breath. It sounded raw, like even the oxygen had rough edges. "When I'm out there, I feel real. I feel like me. And then I come home and I'm-- I thought I would get better. I thought, y'know, practice, or sleep, or being here with you, I thought for sure that I would figure out who I was supposed to be in this situation and I'd be like one of those moms that all the kids on the block think's a little weird, but cool."

Mikey rubbed her back. "You're a cool mom."

She choked on her own tears. "Mikes--"

"I know," he said. "I'm listening." More than that, "I pay attention."

"I'm selfish," she said. "I thought if I carried her inside me, if I did that for nine months, it would mean something, it would _change_ something. I thought, you were so in love with her, and I thought I could just be, like, the alternate, but I'm not even-- I'm so fucking selfish."

"Yeah," Mikey nodded. "Because you're the one who asked your wife to carry a baby she didn't want in the first place."

"It wasn't fucking like that," she said. "You know it wasn't."

"It was a little like that." It was okay, though; Mikey knew the ways in which he was selfish. He knew the ways he was selfless, too. He had enough therapy to know he had to be both.

"Mikey," she said, soft and desperate.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't-- Not this. Not coming home and feeling awful and making you feel awful."

"You're allowed to make me feel any way you want," he told her. Even if he hadn't owed her that, owed her months and months when the medications hadn't worked, when she'd had to sit up at night just to be sure he'd make it through, he still would have believed it.

"But not our daughter," she said softly.

Mikey didn't have an answer for that. Ebby was something else, something greater than either of them, and despite all of this, they both knew it. Finally he said, "Go on tour. And if you-- If you don't want to come back, we'll-- We'll make it easy. For both of us."

She said, "It's fucking useless, but I'm pretty sure you're my one, Mikeyway."

He kissed the space just underneath her ear. "Yeah. Mine too, Aliciaway."

*

Mikey's phone was ringing. Mikey thought about not answering it. He knew what Alicia had to say. If he didn't answer, she'd leave a message. Or, well, maybe not, not about this. She might call back. Eventually, Mikey was going to have to pick up his phone. He let it rest in his palm for a few moments and picked it up just as it was about to go to voicemail. "Hey, Liesh."

"How are you?" she asked.

Mikey shrugged. She would know he was doing it. She was used to his body language. "Ebby's allergic to Tide."

"You changed detergents?"

"It was on sale, one of the huge ones, and I thought it would be easier."

"She okay?"

"She will be. It was just a rash, but she was pretty miserable."

"You slept any?"

Mikey shrugged again. She said, "Yeah, okay."

"Can we just--"

"I'm gonna crash with Matt, after the tour. For a bit. 'Til I figure something else out."

Mikey sat down on the floor and didn't say anything. Alicia said, "I talked to some people about the paperwork, and stuff. Evidently, if you're not contesting anything, it can be done without a lawyer."

"Yeah, I don't-- Maybe we should have one anyway? Just, to make sure it all gets done right?"

"Just one, though. Just to help with the paper."

"Yeah, not-- Not court, or anything." Mikey closed his eyes and didn't think about that, about rooms with tables where they would be sitting across from each other.

Alicia's breath was loud between them. Finally, she asked, "Is there someone there with you?"

"Ebby. She's napping."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"I knew what you meant."

"Mikey. I'm gonna call Lyn five minutes after we're done and make sure you've called Gerard."

"That isn't your job anymore," he told her, not meaning to sound bitter.

"It is 'til the papers are signed."

He wasn't going to win this argument, and he probably would have called Gerard anyway so he said, "Fine."

She said, "Mikey--"

"I'll see when you get back," he said. "We'll figure things out."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

He hung up without saying goodbye. Bizarrely, that was the part that seemed a little too final.

*

Gerard came over with Bandit and said, "Uh, Bob's bringing pizza, Ray's bringing pie, and I think Frank is bringing...dogs? I don't know, that part was a little unclear."

"I have dogs," Mikey said, unconcerned either way.

"Yeah, well, I think he was a little bit flummoxed, with everyone having figured out useful things before him."

"Just Frank would be good," Mikey said.

Gerard didn't say anything to that, instead pulling Mikey to him and holding on like Mikey might run if he loosened his grip. Mikey couldn't imagine where the fuck he would go, but he didn't mind, didn't want to be anywhere but with Gerard. Gerard cupped his hand over the back of Mikey's neck and said, "Hey. Hey, Mikes."

Mikey felt stupid, mostly, because it wasn't as though he hadn't seen it coming. It wasn't as though the two of them hadn't all but admitted it was coming. Gerard didn't seem to mind, though, he just stroked Mikey's neck with his thumb. Gerard asked, "You think you could sleep?"

Mikey shook his head without moving. He should, he was tired, but he wouldn't: he would just lie there, cold and empty and fucking alone, like some huge cliché, or, alternatively, one of their songs--maybe both. Gerard tightened his hand a little bit and said, "'Kay. Is there something--"

"I don't know. I don't-- Just stay."

"Yeah, 'course. Long as you need."

Mikey closed his eyes. "At some point, your wife is probably going to wonder where you've gone."

"I think my wife has kinda figured us out."

Probably. Alicia had too, before they'd even gotten married, which was what had made the whole thing possible. Mikey squeezed his eyes even further shut and didn't think about it, didn't think about it at all.  
Distantly, he heard the door open and Ray say, "Hey kiddos, whatcha playing?"

Bandit said something loud and enthusiastic. Ebby backed her up with some squeals. The sound unwound something in Mikey, and he took a breath. "Well. We have pie."

"Yeah. What do you think he got?"

"Banana chocolate."

"Right. The comfort pie of choice." Gerard huffed a little into Mikey's hair and for a moment, Mikey's lips quirked. Ray wasn't exactly predictable, until there was an emergency. Then he was really fucking predictable. Evidently this qualified as an emergency. Mikey rolled that over in his head.

He pulled back from Gerard and ran a hand over his face. "Okay. So, yeah. I'm getting a divorce."

"Yeah," Gerard said softly.

"Just kinda needed to say it aloud."

"Sure."

Mikey took a breath, then another one. He heard his door open again and smelled pizza. There were dogs barking, too, so evidently Bob and Frank had carpooled. Or Bob was staying at Frank's place again. Mikey breathed out, long and slow, and shook to loosen his shoulders. "I'm gonna go feed my kid."

"Yeah, Lyn was pretty insistent I remember to do that, too."

Mikey laughed at that, not deeply or freely, but he felt it in his chest. "C'mon."

*

Bob went with Mikey to sign the papers. Gerard had volunteered, but Gerard could be a little inappropriately protective, so Mikey had said, "Maybe Bob, for this?"

Alicia'd brought Matt, which made Mikey feel better about the choice, like he'd been allowed. She looked tired and sad, but also relieved, calmer than she had in a long time. Mikey wished he could feel the same. It wasn't that he wanted to keep her against her will, only-- Well, maybe he did.

Bob fitted a hand to Mikey's lower back when Mikey leaned over to actually sign, and it helped, made Mikey's hand steadier, like he was sure of this choice. The whole thing took less than an hour. All the logistics had been worked out ahead of time by the lawyer Alicia had found for them. Mikey got full custody, Alicia got a little alimony, everyone went away happy. Yeah.

Afterward, Bob pushed Mikey into the passenger's seat and buckled his belt for him. If Mikey'd had the energy, he would have felt frustrated, coddled, but as it was, he was just glad there was someone there to think of these things. He wasn't even paying enough attention to notice that Bob wasn't taking them back to his place. Instead, they ended up at Mikey's favorite Italian place.

"I'm not really hungry," Mikey said.

Bob said, "Okay," and hauled him inside anyway.

Bob ordered for them, and Mikey ate, mostly because Bob seemed to expect it. Bob was a pretty sensible guy, most of the time, at least when it came to _other_ people's lives, so it seemed only logical to do what Bob wanted him to do. Besides, Bob had ordered the mushroom ravioli, and Mikey loved the mushroom ravioli. It was handmade.

Bob said, "Gee said he'd keep Ebby for the day, if you wanted to just hang."

"Yeah," Mikey said, without thinking much. At the end of the day, he'd go and he'd let his daughter sleep in bed with him, so he could know why all this was happening. But for the moment, he didn't want to be responsible for anything beyond breathing.

Bob nodded at that, and when their waiter came back, he ordered coffee and tiramisu. Mikey ate that without having to be told. Bob kicked at his feet a bit, and paid the bill.

Mikey thought Bob would take him back to the place Bob rented when he was going to be in town for extended periods of time. Instead, Bob drove and drove, and Mikey just looked out the window, letting houses and trees and highway barriers and whatever the fuck else pass them by. They ended up at the shore. Mikey asked, "How long have we been driving?" but Bob just smiled a little, and shook his head.

He got out of the car, and Mikey followed. Mikey said, "It's March," like maybe Bob hadn't noticed that there was still snow on the ground in several neighborhoods.

"Yeah," Bob agreed, and kept walking toward the water. The beach, unshockingly, was largely deserted, a few joggers or the hardcore winter tanning contingent spread out sparsely over the area, but mostly, it was quiet, open space.

Mikey's boots sank into the sand, although nowhere near as much as they would have in the summer, when it was soft, not tightly packed from the chill. Mikey asked, "Are we-- Is this some kind of mental refreshing thing I don't know about?"

Bob shrugged. "I was sort of winging it, honestly."

"Oh."

"I haven't even broken up with anyone in a long time," Bob pointed out. "This band is full of monogamous and celibate fuckers. It's hard for us to know what to do."

"Yeah. I should get a new band."

Bob nodded. "I'm sure Pete could hook you up with something."

"Probably," Mikey agreed. "But have you noticed the expiration date on Decay bands?"

"You have a point."

"I could do a reality show. Divorcees only need apply."

"Yeah. I see that going well."

Mikey smiled out at the ocean. "It would totally be the new American Idol for disillusioned fuckers."

"You should use that as the selling point. That phrase exactly."

"I'm a fucking PR god," Mikey told him solemnly.

"I can tell," Bob replied with equal gravitas.

Mikey said, "I'm going to put my feet in."

"That water is about negative one billion degrees Farenheit."

"You're in charge of saving my feet. It'll be like Ghost of You, except I won't die. Probably."

"Can I have a reality show to find myself a band full of sane people?"

Mikey snorted. "Oxymoron."

*

Gerard was the one who brought the tour up. Mikey wasn't surprised--everyone except Gerard thought Mikey listened to Gerard best. Mikey didn't know that he listened to anyone best, but he knew that it was easier for some things to just be quantifiable.

Gerard brought Mikey coffee, clover coffee, the kind that made itself known for at least six hours afterward. He said, "So, not to sound like an insensitive dickface, but--"

"The label would really like it if we'd get our asses on a bus?" Mikey'd sort of been expecting someone to say something to him for a couple of weeks.

Gerard ran a hand through his hair. "Ray went apeshit in that way he does, when they first brought it up. It was, like, a week after. We've been able to hold off on the strength of that until now, but the natives are definitely getting restless."

Ray's apeshit was a very, very quiet kind of apeshit and scary as fuck. Mikey almost felt sorry for whoever had been in that meeting. He was grateful Ray had gone there on his behalf, though, partly because he really hadn't had his shit together enough in those first few weeks, and partly because it had given him another couple of weeks to think about what he needed, if he was going to go on tour again.

He took a sip of his coffee. "We're gonna need two buses."

Gerard looked at him like he had just suggested finishing off the ozone by way of a giant puppy bonfire. "What?"

"One for me and Ebby, and you and Bandit, if you want. One for the guys. I'm not going to make them be quiet at all hours just so she can sleep, and I'm also not going to ask them not to be, y'know, guys on a tour. But I'm not having my kid learn more profanities than colors or shapes before she even starts kindergarten. Also, that way, if she does her death germs thing, Frank's three percent less likely to get sick."

"Frank would get sick if we put him in a plastic bubble, Mikey," Gerard explained patiently, like maybe Mikey had missed the last thirteen or so years of being in a band with Frank Iero.

"Yeah, but at least with two buses it's less likely to become a vicious round-robin of death for both of them, and possibly for some of us."

Gerard sipped at his coffee and admitted, "You might have a point."

Mikey rolled his eyes. "I'm just asking for an extra bus. I'm not-- I don't want a private jet, or anything. We've given the label, what, seven consecutive successful tours? In one bus. They can shell out."

"Yeah, no, that's not--" Gerard shook his head. "Of course."

"Gee?"

"Just. What about when Lyn's got Bandit? I don't like you being on a bus by yourself."

"Ebby."

"Yeah, but--"

"It's not as if you guys aren't welcome. The baby bus isn't off-limits. You can take turns, or something."

Gerard nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay."

"Stop worrying about me."

Gerard looked over at Mikey. "Um. Was that serious?"

Mikey shrugged. "Figured it was worth a try."

Gerard reached out and patted Mikey on the shoulder. Unshockingly, he lost his manly willpower somewhere between the second and third pat, and pulled Mikey in for a full-blown hug.

*

When Mikey brought his terms (term, really) to the guys, Ray said, "Makes sense."

Frank said, "But if you leave, I shall have to turn all of my tormenting energy to Bob."

Bob said, "I know how to change diapers."

The label didn't even blink--metaphorically or literally. The rep they sent just said, "Yeah, we've kind of been expecting that since Bandit was born."

That had been five, almost six years earlier, so Mikey imagined they thought they'd gotten off pretty easy. Mikey called Pete and asked, "Uh. How'd you find a babysitter for Bronx?"

"What, Lyn never left her kid at home?"

"Her sister helped out. I don't think I can get in on that. Also, I need someone who will travel with us. And Gee tends to be busy when I am."

"Oh, you need a _tour_ babysitter."

"Yeah, Pete, I'm pretty sure my mom would come stay with Ebby if I needed a night off."

"Not all of us live in the same state with our mothers," Pete said, sounding kind of distracted.

"Are you multi-tasking?"

"I'm emailing Silvia, the girl who was with me on the last tour. I'm pretty sure she'll know someone, maybe someone in your area, or someone willing to get there in order to tour with. She was pretty awesome. Like, she had an actual child development degree and a billion references and wasn't crazy."

"The not-crazy's pretty high on my list of requirements," Mikey told him.

"I'm not going to turn your kid over to some psycho, Mikeyway. Even if I wasn't afraid of the vengeance you'd enact, I still wouldn't."

"Mm."

The conversation lapsed into silence, except for the sound of Pete's typing. When he'd finished, Pete asked, "How are you?"

"Okay," Mikey said. It was kind of true today. It hadn't been so much, yesterday, when he'd been trying to clean out Ebby's closet because she needed new clothes. He'd kept shirts Alicia had sent as presents despite Ebby having outgrown all of them.

"Because I'd be freaking out. There'd have to be someone with me here, 24/7."

Mikey didn't say anything. The house hadn't felt so fucking lonely when Alicia was just on tour, but now that he knew she wasn't coming back, he could swear he heard his footsteps echoing. But Mikey didn't have Pete's ability to make the stuff going on inside shine through, hang on him like clothing.

Pete said, "You're kind of more handleable than me."

Mikey shook his head, because it wasn't true. They just fell apart in different ways.

Pete made a noise. "Mikey?"

"Yeah. I'm just--" Mikey's hand flailed, even knowing Pete couldn't see it. "It's not like that."

"I didn't mean--"

"I know. But it's not."

"Your guys know, though, right? They're on top of it."

"Yeah," Mikey said.

"Mikey."

"Yeah, Pete, they're on top of it."

Pete was quiet for a suspiciously long time. "Okay."

"Pete."

"Okay," Pete repeated, acting all innocent.

Mikey sighed. "Thanks for the help with the babysitter."

"Call you when I know something."

*

Brianne was short, with red curls that refused to be caught in a hairband, considerable curves, a monroe piercing and vines tattooed all along her right earlobe. She looked nothing like Alicia, sounded nothing like Alicia and smiled nothing like Alicia. Mikey still had to look away when she picked Ebby up during her interview.

She was the third of three names Pete had given Mikey, and Mikey was starting to think he was never going to be able to look at women again without having a completely irrational wave of emptiness come over him. The second candidate had been a guy, and Mikey was tempted to go with him just to avoid the problem, but Ebby was reacting to Brianne a lot more easily than she had the other two, and Mikey had a hard time being an asshole where his kid was involved. "Weak," he murmured to himself.

Brianne looked up and asked, "What was that?"

Mikey bit back a curse. "I was just, uh, figuring out how many _weeks_ it would be."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'm pretty much good for anything. I spent a year in Chile and one in Denmark doing the Au Pair thing. I don't really get attached to places, y'know?" She lifted Ebby above her head and blew a raspberry where Ebby's shirt had inched up from her waistband. Ebby giggled loudly and Brianne grinned up at her. "People, on the other hand..."

Mikey looked at his daughter. She hadn't figured out that mom wasn't coming home, yet. A couple of nights earlier, she had cried and babbled about "ma. Mamamama," but that was normal for when Alicia was on tour. Mikey'd taken her back to bed with him and said, "I know, kiddo," but he hadn't even bothered to try and explain. Eventually it would all come to a head--Ebby would figure out how much longer it had been than normal, or she would grow up enough to understand, or someone else would say something to her when Mikey wasn't paying attention. But for the moment it just seemed cruel, like telling a pre-schooler that the tooth fairy didn't exist.

Ebby pulled at one of Brianne's curls, and Brianne winced, but she didn't snap, just worked to gently untangle herself. Mikey had gotten so used to thinking out every single decision he made regarding Ebby--from diaper brand to how she spent her day--that he didn't even realize he was saying, "Job's yours, if you want it," until he'd said it.

Brianne didn't even look at him; she was much too busy trying to braid Ebby's hair. Ebby was interested in the end product, but not so much with the part where she had to sit still for it to happen. Brianne said, "Awesome. I don't know what you were thinking salary-wise, but I'm pretty flexible. Meals, transportation and places to stay are definitely on you, and I get one day a week off. Normally I insist on the same day, but with touring schedules, we can negotiate something else. Other than that, I basically charge a flat fee per week based on what I'm actually doing, the age, the number and needs of the kids."

"It's just Ebby. Bandit's only gonna be around off and on, and Lyn'll probably be there when she is, so."

"Another kid for a few hours here and there isn't a big deal, especially if they get along."

Bandit and Ebby were almost bizarrely like Gerard and Mikey in their relationship with each other. Mikey said, "If it happens, there'll be, like, tips."

She looked over at him then. "I take chocolate. Seriously, it's my major vice. Like, coffee's nice and all, but a bar of seventy percent organic cocoa and I'm pretty much your friend for life."

That was how Pig was with carrots. Mikey kept the thought to himself. "Noted."

"You at least know when you guys are leaving?"

"Two months," Mikey said. "And I'm pretty sure the tour is seven weeks long. Just not positive. I'll look it up and send you the info."

"Okay. And we have our own bus?"

"Well, it's a family bus, so if Bandit and Lyn come in, Gee'll probably share with us and them."

"Yeah, no, I just meant-- I mean, I've been to plenty of concerts in my time, but I've never been with the band." She looked away from him and chewed slightly at the corner of her mouth. "I'm not sure how all this works."

"Mostly, for you, it'll be like being on a really long roadtrip with a two and a half year old."

"_That_ is totally something I can do."

Mikey almost laughed. "We have very different concepts of familiar."

"Differences are what makes the world go around," she told him calmly, if nowhere near as earnestly as Gerard would have managed. She was going to fit in with his band just fine.

*

Two days before they were supposed to leave on tour, Mikey called Gerard at two in the morning and said, "I'm kind of, um. I'm alone."

Lindsey, who had evidently answered the phone, said, "I'll send him over, babe." She had clearly woken up to the call.

Mikey said, "Fuck, sorry," but she'd already hung up.

Gerard was there in fifteen minutes, which was a little worrisome, since it was easily a twenty minute drive, even doing fifty in the residentials. He still had sleeplines on his face. Mikey meant to say, "I'm okay," meant to say, "Didn't mean to scare you," but once Gerard was there, Mikey just wrapped himself around him and tried to breathe.

Gerard said, "I got you, Mikes. I got you."

Gerard soothed his hand over the back of Mikey's head, and it helped Mikey to focus a little, just pay attention to that, that one touch. Finally, when he could, he said, "Sorry. I kinda--"

Gerard shook his head, still tucked against Mikey's, but Mikey said, "I woke up and I was alone and the batteries in the monitor had died, but I didn't know that, I hadn't been paying attention, and I couldn't hear Ebby and I just--"

"Yeah," Gerard said.

"I ran to her room and she was fine, but I just, I kept thinking about how I do things like that, I forget to change batteries and sometimes I put dirty socks on her because I didn't put them in the hamper, so they're just lying around, and if I'm this stupid about things here, where we're used to being, where I know where everything is, how am I going to--"

"Mikey."

"Am I putting the band ahead of her?" Mikey pulled back, too much nervous energy running through him to hold still. "I mean, it's you, the band is you, so I kept thinking that it wasn't the _band_ I was choosing over my daughter, but what if I am?"

Gerard reached out and fisted Mikey's shirt in one hand. It got Mikey to stop. Gerard said softly, "You put your life on hold for two years because you thought you'd asked Alicia to put hers on hold the last four of the pregnancy, and a couple right after. This isn't about your daughter. This is about you having forgotten what it feels like to make a decision for yourself."

"I wanted to stay with Ebby," Mikey said. It was the truth. He'd missed touring, but when he'd considered leaving Ebby behind, the ache of it had always faded.

"Yeah. You still do. That's why we're getting a second bus. Wanting to be more than one thing at a time isn't a fucking crime. You can be her dad and my bassist. The two aren't mutually exclusive."

Mikey's stomach hurt, deep and somehow sharp at the same time. He said, "I think I kinda fucked up being a dad and a husband."

Gerard was quiet for a little while. Then he asked, "You talking with your shrink about this?"

"Yes. No. I don't-- Mostly I talk to him about what comes out of my mouth." Therapy was hard to explain when he wasn't in the session, Mikey found, even if he wanted to, which most of the time he didn't.

"But you've talked about the divorvce?"

"He knows she left me."

"Mikey."

"Sometimes you can't talk about a thing until it's ready to be talked about."

"You sound like me," Gerard accused.

"Worse things have happened."

"You weren't a bad husband."

Mikey looked up at Gerard, then. "For her. For her I was."

"You're making it too simple. It's the same as lying, oversimplifying, just sounds kind of different in our heads."

Too simple. "Ebby asked me when her mom was coming home today."

Gerard flinched. "What'd you say?"

"I distracted her with Elmo."

Gerard's smile was tight, but Mikey could see it in the dark of the hall, all the same. Gerard said, "Well, now you're gonna distract her with thirty-six states she's never been to."

Mikey swallowed. It hurt, but he managed, and the next swallow was easier. Gerard caught his hand and tugged him away from the door. "C'mon, I told Lyn I was staying."

"You guys've only got one more night."

"Yeah, well, she was the one who told me she'd better not see me before morning, so evidently she's pretty excited for that."

"Not funny."

"A little funny."

Mikey managed a smile for Gerard. "I'm kind of in love with your wife."

"Sadly for all of us, I'm pretty sure whatever you're thinking about is illegal in all fifty states, and several international communities."

"They did find water on Mars," Mikey said in the middle of a yawn. "Only a matter of time, now."

Gerard pushed Mikey into the bed. "I bet shows would be _awesome_ with no gravity."

*

Mikey had been trying to prepare Ebby for leaving home by way of showing her various Sesame Street clips about vacations over and over again, showing her pictures of the buses the band had ridden in the past, and just plain telling her that they were going to have an adventure, far away from home. She had been, by turns, apathetic to this idea, or greatly excited by it, largely dependent upon how much sugar she'd had recently.

When she saw the bus for the first time, she tugged at Mikey's hand and said, "Bus, daddy! Bus!" followed by a long string of wholly incomprehensible, one-sided conversation.

"Yup, kiddo," Mikey said. He grabbed their bags out of the trunk of his car and took as many as he could while still keeping hold of Ebby.

Thankfully, when he got to their bus, Brianne was already on it. She said, "Oh, hey, I was early. Frank introduced himself and let me on."

Mikey said, "Hey. Um, do you mind keeping her while I get the rest of our stuff?"

"That's technically what I'm getting paid for," she said lightly, scooping Ebby up. "Hey, missy. Ready for some adventuring?"

"Bus!" Ebby shouted again.

Brianna laughed. "Well, good to know she's got a handle on the situation."

Mikey smiled and went to bring the rest of the bags--mostly Ebby's clothes and books and toys and probably quite a few things that he could have left behind but hadn't. Bob was standing by Mikey's car when he got back there. Mikey said, "Hey, how was Chicago?"

Bob had gone back "home" for the week before tour, like he always did. Bob said, "The pizza was better than here."

"Sacreligious asshole," Mikey said, without much heat.

Bob huffed. "At the risk of actually being an asshole, you ready for this?"

"No," Mikey admitted. He shrugged. "I don't think ready's gonna happen any time soon. It sorta feels like one of those times when you, like, get into a car accident and you've just gotta make yourself drive again."

"I didn't mean are you ready to start dating again."

Mikey glanced at Bob, who just looked back at him, evenly. Mikey asked, "Bad simile?"

"I don't know. Depends on what the fuck you were trying to say."

Mikey ran a hand over his face. "Is it possible to get used to being in one place? Because I think I might have."

"Yeah, I hear people do that sometimes."

"It's not even just _her_\--although I'm pretty freaked that she's gonna decide a week in that this road shit isn't her scene--but what if _I_ decide that?"

"We send Ebby to my mom, who'll shit herself with glee to have a kid that she can give back in two months, you'll finish out the terms of this contract, and you'll take your savings and live your life. It's not as if you haven't gotten through things that sucked before. You're perfectly capable of doing it again."

"I honestly fucking hate it when you bring logic into this band. It's annoying and it means I have to be a grown-up about things."

"Yeah, Frank's already given me the talk."

Mikey smiled a little, not feeling much like it, but sensing it was the right thing to do. Bob pulled him in close. "We're here, Mikey. There's that."

Mikey pressed in tight. "Yeah." He grabbed hold of the hem of Bob's shirt and squeezed it in his fist.

"Yeah, there's definitely that."

*

Twenty-nine hours into being on the road, Ebby figured out that her dad had forgotten Snuffalufagus, and all hell broke loose. At first, Mikey tried to placate her with other toys, but she was having none of it. By the fourth hour of her tantrum, when he'd tried ignoring her and then playing airplane, which was generally a sure thing, Mikey turned to Brianne helplessly and said, "I'm an awful father."

Brianne said, "Mmm. When was the last time she was away from home this long?"

"Uh." Mikey thought. "We went to visit Alicia about a year ago."

"Yeah, kids are like dogs, she doesn't remember that long ago. As far as she's concerned, she's in a new place, none of the familiar stuff around, not understanding what's going on."

"This isn't about Snuffalufagus."

"Really, really not," she said softly.

"Okay." Mikey took a breath, then another, then a third. "Okay. So, she's homesick, she's confused."

"There anything you do when she's sick? Something that makes her calm?"

Mikey said, "Duck."

"Um--"

"Home videos of me and my ex. She likes watching her mommy and daddy."

Brianne was quiet for a second. "You bring any?"

Mikey laughed, short and sharp. "Yeah. Those I remembered."

"'Kay. Why don't you call over to the others, see if you can get on that bus. I'll stay with her and watch."

"If she's upset about being out of her normal surroundings, I don't know if I should--"

"Let's try it this way. If not, you can bring someone back, maybe your brother. Support system."

Mikey glanced over at where Ebby was back to crying incosolably on the floor. Her eyes were a red mess, her hair matted, and her cries were sounding weak, more like wails. Mikey took a step toward her, but she just cried louder.

Brianne said, "I promise I'll take care of her."

Mikey shook himself. "Yeah, sorry. I'm not--"

"It's cool, I get it." She handed him his phone from the table.

He took it. "Yeah."

"Seriously, single parents. You're not alone."

Mikey said, "Single parent." He hadn't thought about it like that yet.

She smiled, just a little. "Call the other bus."

He pressed memory one.

Frank met Mikey at the door and pulled him in. Mikey leaned against Frank, soaking up his heat, the compact strength that was part and parcel of Frank's hugs. Mikey said, "So, hey."

Frank said, "If we're late to the venue, Gee's making you sing during soundcheck."

Mikey snorted. "He'd have to _give up the mic_."

"I tried coming up with a counterargument for that in advance and failed. But there was a good-faith effort."

"Mm," Mikey murmured. "Well, in that case."

Frank dragged him further onto the bus, all the way into the back, where the guys had set up a makeshift pillow-bonanza on the floor. Ray and Bob were both settled up against the couch, but Gerard was lying fully on the floor, surrounded by pillows, his head on Ray's thigh. Mikey surveyed the scene and said, "My kid's freaking out."

"Happens," Gerard said sagely, although not without sympathy.

Mikey sighed and sat down, wiggling between Ray and Bob. They let him in pretty easily and it was nice, body heat on all sides of him, Gerard close, Frank burrowing in the scant space between Mikey's legs, playing little spoon. Mikey tucked his chin on Frank's shoulder and said, "Hi."

"We miss you," Frank said, sounding pretty drowsy.

Mikey wrapped a hand over Frank's neck. "You texted me three times an hour yesterday."

"Not the same," Frank protested.

Mikey tipped his head back against the couch and smiled a little. Ray said, "It's really not," and Mikey's head came right back up. Ray wasn't a complainer, nor really all that likely to get openly sentimental. Even without looking, Mikey could feel the way Gerard was watching everything.

Mikey said, "It's not as if you guys aren't welcome. You're her uncles. She probably likes you more than she likes me. Particularly right now."

"Not that we don't love your kid, and all," Bob said slowly from behind Mikey, "but we kind of need to know that _you'd_ want us there."

Mikey blinked. "Um. What?"

None of them said anything for a while. Finally, Gerard took point. "You've been a little distant, Mikeyway. Even with me. We were just trying to give you some space."

Mikey felt a little dizzy, only not physically. It was like his brain couldn't stop spinning. Finally, he laughed. It wasn't exactly amused laughter, maybe a little hysterical. "The last fucking thing I need is space. Are you-- What--"

"You've--" Frank started, but Mikey said, "My wife left me."

"Well, yeah," Frank said carefully. "But, like, you don't just replace a dog that dies with another dog, y'know?"

"Okay, that's it, you're leaving the metaphors to Gee from now on," Ray said decisively. "Mikey, he doesn't mean--"

"I know he wasn't calling Alicia a dog. I speak Frank." Mikey was still thinking about everything else that had been said, though. "It's not replacing. I don't-- You guys were here before her. Now you're here after. That's--" He shook his head. "Just, I don't need space."

Bob moved in a little closer, all but draping himself over Mikey. "Okay."

"We're taking turns," Ray said firmly. "So we each get some time."

Frank made a disgruntled noise and Gerard said, "But--"

Mikey closed his eyes, leaned as much into Bob as he could, and let Ray fight it out with them.

*

When they arrived at the venue, Ebby was fast asleep. Mikey asked Brianne, "Do you charge extra for the magic?"

She grinned. "Buy me a coffee."

He told her she could stay on the bus, but that if Ebby woke up, and she wanted to come out, all she had to do was show her badge at the door nearest to the bus. Then he went and played on a stage that wasn't a practice space for the first time in over two years. He'd kind of thought, climbing onto the stage, that it would be a little weird at first, like remembering how to play a video game that you haven't played in years, or picking up a book you'd left off three-fourths of the way in months earlier. It wasn't, though.

Sure, the soundcheck sucked, but that was mostly because Gerard had imbibed way too much caffeine for any mere human to process, and Bob was being careful, the way he always was during soundchecks, saving up his wrists for the actual show. Frank was the only one of them really concentrating, which was a sure way to create a disaster all around. All that said, nothing felt terribly wrong or out of place. Mikey was pretty certain things would settle once there was an audience and Gerard's energy had somewhere to go, Frank's focus could be directed at something, and Bob was up for going all out.

Brianne still hadn't shown up by the time they were finished, so he went on a coffee run for her and went back to the bus. She made grabby hands and gave a barely audible, "Thanks."

Mikey peered into the bunks. "She's still sleeping?"

"I tried to get her up, but she couldn't keep her eyes open. She needs the sleep. I know it's gonna screw with her schedule, but we'll get her back on one."

"You up for letting her watch me tonight?"

"I take it she likes that?"

"Dunno. Haven't toured since we were finishing up the leg we were on when she was born. She was barely two months old when I came back home. There've been one-offs since then, but I mostly just left her with my mom or Lyn."

"She's never seen you?"

Mikey shrugged. "She's not even three yet."

"Sure."

Mikey looked over at Brianne. "Whatever you're not saying, say it."

"None of my business."

"Yeah, well, you're taking care of my kid, so I'd prefer to know what the fuck's going on in your head."

"You took her to see your ex's shows."

Mikey stared at her for a second. She opened her mouth, said, "Sor--"

"It was a point of connection, I thought. Y'know, if Ebby grew up loving Alicia's music, that the two of them--"

Brianne nodded. "At the risk of stating the obvious, the two of you don't need that connection."

"No, I--" Mikey rubbed at his neck. "I've got that much figured out. I just think she might like it."

"Probably," Brianne agreed.

"I'm gonna nap, before the show. If you need anything--"

She waved him off. He said, "Okay," and went to go curl up in the bunk above his baby girl.

*

It was not The Greatest Show They Had Ever Played. For one thing, Gerard managed to trip Mikey somewhere in the middle of "Guys Like Us," mostly by being Gerard. Ray lost sound in his monitors about two-thirds of the way through and had to wing it, and Gerard forgot lyrics to their newer stuff--twice. Mikey really didn't give a fuck. The audience was eating it up, too glad to have them back to care about technicalities, and Mikey was remembering why he'd missed this for so long, the easy high when everything else melted away and for seconds at a time there was nothing but him, the guys, and the music.

Well, and Ebby, evidently. Brianne had her in the wings and the two of them were watching. Mikey couldn't stop peering over and waving, smiling. She looked so _excited_. He could tell that she was yelling, "Daddy!" quite a bit, but that was the only word he could lip-read. It was enough.

Frank laughed at him, but Mikey just flipped him off. That was going to show up on YouTube by one that morning, wild rumors about a violent rift between the two of them, Mikey just knew it. Frank mimed cocksucking, with a suggestive face, in answer, though, so maybe the rumors would be of an entirely different sort. Whatever they were, Pete would tell him, and Frank would have too good a time reading the boards in a high voice that Mikey was pretty sure didn't sound like any girl, ever.

Besides, Mikey had totally seen Bob mugging to Ebby at least twice, and Gerard had walked over to sing to her at one point, nearly fully leaving the stage. Mikey was just glad Brianne had kept Ebby out of reach of Gerard's hair, because girl knew how to pull.

They played a longer encore than they had planned, because they were all riding the high of being back together and Gerard yelled, "Whaddya think?" and Frank started playing fucking "Vampires," and yeah, okay, why not? Mikey could barely remember where to put his fingers, but it didn't feel wrong, just hazy, indistinct. Gerard tumbled over lyrics and even Ray fucked up and Mikey could hear Bob cursing them and their motherfucking first album behind him, but there wasn't any real venom to it.

Just to make it up to Bob, and maybe a little because he didn't want things to end, Mikey draped himself over Gerard's back and said, "House of Wolves."

Gerard shut things down after that, which was probably a good idea, since he was starting to sound like someone had gone at his vocal chords with pointy fingernails, but he was grinning like mad and when he got to the side of the stage he absconded with Ebby and threw her a little in the air. She made a pleased sound and babbled at him for a bit with interspersed shouts of, "Unca G!!"

Frank bumped Mikey's hip with his own and said, "It's like his very own gangster name."

Mikey snorted. "He should make an apparel line."

From behind them, Ray said, "Don't encourage that kind of behavior. Jesus."

Bob just made a noise that could have been agreement, or further encouragement. Mikey made his way to Gerard and collected his daughter, who promptly began reminding him who he was and that she had seen him play the, "git-tar." Alicia had tried explaining that it was a bass on numerous occasions, but the proliferation of Guitar Hero and the fact that all her picture books proclaimed an instrument looking almost exactly like it to be a guitar had retarded that particular lesson. Mikey wasn't too worried. She'd come around.

"Yep," he said. "Daddy played the guitar."

She made a high-pitched noise that made him wince a little, but then she leaned over and kissed his nose and it was hard to do anything but smile when she was pulling shit like that. He called a good night to the guys and jogged the rest of the way to his bus. He looked over his shoulder to see Bob following him and said, "You must've drawn the short straw. You really up for this?"

Ebby was still yammering away. Bob pulled her from Mikey and said, "Hey."

"Boooooob," she said seriously, touching her nose to his. Then, "Drums! Bangbangbangbang--"

Bob laughed, looking over at Mikey. "One of my kind."

Mikey stepped aside and let Bob carry Ebby onto the bus first.

*

Mikey gave Bob first shower, trying to get Ebby to calm down. Brianne said, "Yeah, sorry, I thought about that, but--"

Mikey shook his head. "It's-- I like it."

Bob took over for Mikey, so that he could get clean. Mikey said, very sternly, "No tickling. That just gets her more riled up." Then he made Bob swear on the lives of his dogs, which was the only way to really guarantee cooperation when it came to Bob.

When he came back, though, comfy in sweats and with his hair still wet, Bob was lying in one of the bunks with Ebby on top of him. He was telling her a story, something to do with a boy and a dog and possibly a drumkit. Mikey wasn't really listening, so much as letting the cadence of Bob's voice work the last of the show high from his muscles, dissolve it into something easier to handle on a bus, with the road beneath him.

Eventually, Mikey heard the snuffling sound Ebby made when she slept. Bob carefully pulled himself out from underneath her, making sure she slept through it. Mikey whispered, "Brianne's riding up front. Back's all ours."

They made their way quietly into the lounge and collapsed onto the sofa. Bob rolled his neck and said, "I'm sore in places I'm pretty sure don't even exist."

"Just wait 'til tomorrow morning."

"Yeah."

Mikey didn't mind the silence stretching between them, was mostly comforted by it. He jumped when Bob asked, "How you doing?"

Mikey looked over at Bob. He had his head against the back of the sofa, his eyes closed. Mikey said, "Okay."  
"Yeah? This better than being at home? Or worse?"

Mikey thought. "Different. Different memories."

Bob murmured, "C'mere," and didn't even open his eyes, just reached out and caught Mikey, pulling him in closer. Mikey fought it instinctively for a second, wanting another kind of touch, another person's touch, but Bob was warm and solid and not letting go. Mikey took a breath, smelled his own shampoo and soap, traces of Ebby's slobber. He relaxed into the hold and Bob wrapped his arm further around him.

"It's like starting over again," Mikey told him tiredly. "Except you know what you're missing. And what you've got."

"Not the first time you've had to start over again," Bob pointed out.

"It's funny, how it doesn't really get easier."

"Funny's one word for it."

"Mm. I think you've got it right, staying the fuck away from anything serious."

Bob was quiet long enough that Mikey asked, "Bob?"

"That's what you think I do?"

"Isn't it?"

Bob took a long breath. "Maybe that's what it's turned into."

Mikey wasn't sure how to ask what that meant. He said, "I didn't mean--"

"It's okay," Bob said.

"Bob--"

"Mikey. It's okay."

*

A month into the tour, Mikey's phone rang in the middle of soundcheck. Mikey said, "Shit, sorry," and reached down to turn it off. He only saw the number for a second, but he frowned. "Um--"

He hit the "end" button. Alicia could leave a message. Gerard asked, "Mikes?"

Mikey shook his head, and got back to doing his job. Once they had finished up, he went and checked on Ebby, who was napping, then found a spot behind the venue where he could have a conversation in private. Then he hit Alicia's number and waited while the phone rang.

"Mikey," she answered.

"We were soundchecking."

There was a stretch of silence, and Mikey almost said, _you called me_, stress on the pronouns, but before he could she mumbled, "I'm, uh. We're gonna be in Salt Lake the same day."

Mikey blinked. He'd purposely not paid attention to Alicia's touring schedule. "Oh."

"I-- I was hoping I could see her. You don't have to, I mean, like, if you wanted Gee or one of the others to meet up, you wouldn't have to bring her. I just, I thought I'd say hi. Since--"

"Yeah," Mikey said. He needed her to stop talking so that he could breathe.

"Mikey?" Alicia asked into the silence that followed.

Mikey pressed his head back against the concrete wall of the venue, tapping it harder than was strictly comfortable a few times. "Yeah, no, you should. She misses you."

"Yeah?" The question was soft, hesitant.

Mikey swallowed his anger. It wouldn't help, wouldn't change anything, and he didn't want to fight. "I'll talk to the guys, have one of them call you and set up a time and place."

"Okay. I-- Thanks, Mikey."

"Yeah. I gotta go," Mikey lied.

"Right, I'll just-- Um, have a good show."

"You too," he said and hung up before he could say anything else. He stuck the phone in his back pocket and started walking. He wasn't sure where he was going, just that he needed to move. He walked around the venue a few times, kicking at pebbles and reading graffiti, anything but actually thinking about things. He was on his third lap when Ray found him. Or, rather, when Ray noticed him from where he was standing, talking on the phone. He waved at Mikey and hung up, heading toward him.

"Hey."

Mikey said, "Hi."

"Alicia?" Ray asked. Ray was good at getting things over with, approaching the hardest stuff like a dad taking off a bandage. Mikey sucked at that sort of thing.

"Wants to see Ebby. We're in Salt Lake on the same day."

"What'd you say?"

Mikey just nodded.

Ray asked, "Want me to take care of it?"

Mikey had been planning on asking Gerard, but Ray was less likely to start a fight, now that Mikey considered it. "Would you?"

"No problem."

Mikey smiled tightly. He shifted his weight from foot to foot for another minute or so before saying, "I'm gonna walk a little bit more."

"You have your phone on you?"

Mikey just looked at Ray. Ray laughed. "Yeah. Go sweat it out."

*

As luck would have it, the day after Salt Lake was a driving day, and Ebby could not stop talking about her mom. Rationally, Mikey knew that was a) fair, and b) a good thing, but by noon, he was pretty sure he was going to fucking lose it.

Frank noticed right around the time Mikey had started to consider whether digging his eyes out with a pick would hurt any less. He shoved Mikey into the back lounge and said, "Sleep or read or something. Bri and I've got this."

Mikey put his earphones in and listened to old school Metallica until he fell asleep despite the noise. He woke up to a hand on his knee and opened his eyes to see Frank looking at him evenly, but with an underlying hint of concern. Mikey pulled the headphones off. "She taking a nap?"

Frank nodded. "Should I have let you sleep?"

Mikey shook his head. "No. I'm trying to do that at night, mostly."

"When did you get so old?"

Mikey laughed, sitting up. "Right?"

Frank moved in closer, curling along Mikey's side. "Feeling any better?"

"At some point, I'll be able to hear her name without wanting to, like, self-mutilate with a spork."

"We took a vote, and it seems that one hundred percent of the married dudes on the other bus would most likely join paratrooper infantry and refuse parachutes if our wives decided things weren't working out. All in all, your spork thing is relatively healthy."

"Paratrooper infantry?" Mikey asked.

"Ray's been watching the History Channel again."

"Ray?" Mikey raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever. I just turned the TV on."

"Mm."

"The point is--"

"I followed the point, Frankie. I'm depressed, not retarded."

"Bob and Ray seem to think I'm not always great at speaking English."

"I'm fluent in Frankish."

"That was the first Empire post-Rome." Frank frowned. "How do I even know that?"

"History channel?"

"No, I'm pretty sure that's a leftover from college."

Mikey was less than surprised by the fact that Frank had taken some type of European History, which was kind of a fucking useless class, all told, and that he remembered random bullshit from it. Mikey, though, remembered random bullshit from band memoirs he'd read when he was ten, so he wasn't going to call Frank on it. "Thanks for taking care of her."

Frank shrugged. "She's a good kid."

"Still."

"You can take it for granted, Mikes. You're allowed."

Mikey said, "Yeah, okay." It wasn't agreement.

*

Lyn and Bandit joined up with them three weeks into the tour, and Gerard came over to the Baby Bus full time. Ebby was ecstatic to have her Big Cousin 'Dit around, and Bandit was pleased as punch to be back on a bus--Mikey was pretty sure the desire came with the genes. Having Lyn around meant Brianne could take a little more time off, as well, so long as she took care of both kids when Lyn wanted some alone-time with Gerard, so the whole arrangement worked out pretty well for the first four or so days.

Mikey could tell that Lyn and Gerard were both trying their best not to be a total _couple_ around him, only that was what they were, and it wasn't as if Mikey didn't know. Finally, when he noticed they had started actually being awkward around each other, Mikey made the buses stop and went over to the Big Boy Bus.  
Mikey was barely in the door when Bob asked, "Uh. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Mikey said, and continued on his way to Gerard's bunk, where he curled up and promptly fell asleep.  
When he woke up, Ray was in the bunk across from him, despite the fact that it was Frank's bunk. Mikey yawned. "You draw the short straw?"

"We were taking turns," Ray said, and left it at that.

Mikey rolled onto his back, looking up into the darkness of the bunk. Ray asked, "Feel any better?"

"I just needed some sleep. It's loud over there."

"Sure."

The annoying thing about Ray was that he could get away with being condescending because he never _sounded_ that way until he intended to. Mikey still gritted his teeth and said, "Toro."

"You stop lying to me, I'll stop acting like a douche."

Mikey hated that Ray always came up with such fucking reasonable terms. "Gee and Lyn are just fucking married, okay?"

"Okay," Ray said softly.

Mikey sighed. "I really did just need some sleep. It's okay when I can just sleep."

"It hasn't even been a year, Mikey. None of us are really expecting it to be okay. Probably Gee least of all."

"I just meant I'm not as much of an asshole when I'm not exhausted on top of everything else."

"Don't ignore me."

Mikey shook his head, even knowing it probably wasn't visible. "I'm not. There's just nothing to say. I'm not as patient as you guys are, evidently."

"If it was one of us, you'd be patient as fucking Mother Teresa."

It was easier when the shit he was trying to be patient with didn't actively live inside his head all the time. "I like you guys better."

"Not really funny, man."

Mikey turned to face Ray again. "What do you want me to do? Wallow? I'm already kind of wallowing."

"I want you stop worrying about everyone else and focus a little on whatever the hell it is you need to focus on."

"I have a daughter," Mikey said.

"Yeah, I don't know if you noticed, but you've got, like, five other people helping with that situation, six when Lyn's around. Just, she's not going anywhere, and it's not like you're actually fucking off. Just taking some time to get yourself back together, so you can be together. For her."

It was a compelling argument. "I don't even know where the hell I'd begin."

"I like physical destruction as a starting point for healing emotional bullshit, but to each his own, man."

"I'll take that under consideration."

"Yeah, you do that."

*

"Stop fidgeting," Mikey said.

"You're one to talk," Gerard mumbled, but he came over and sat down on the equipment box next to Mikey. Mikey knocked his knee into Gerard's.

Gerard said, "Sorry."

Mikey shook his head. "Me too." Then, "Just for the record, I want you to still be happily married."

Gerard nodded. "Yeah. I think the problem is that I still want that, too. For you."

"Well, we think a lot alike. Sort of."

"Not really."

"Parallel, kind of. Like monkey bars."

Gerard gave that some thought. "That was good."

Mikey smirked. "Glad you approve."

"I done raised you right."

Mikey leaned over until he was resting wholly against Gerard. He was falling asleep when Bob and Lyn found them. They each had a girl on their shoulders, Bandit on Bob's, Ebby on Lyn's. Ebby was pulling Lyn's hair. Mikey said, "Hey, baby girl. Be nice."

"Piggies!!"

Mikey laughed and stood up, lifting Ebby off of Lyn, who gave him a grateful look. Bandit was kicking her legs against Bob's chest, but Bob didn't seem terribly bothered by it. Lyn said, "Bandit Lee Way, is that any way to treat your daddy's drummer?"

Bandit looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she said, "I saw on the television how to ride a horse."

Gerard blinked and Lyn hid her face. Mikey said, "Bob's a drummer, not a horse."

Bandit shrugged. "They both make the same noises."

"You make a good point," Bob told her, looking up. "Know what else we have in common?"

Bandit shook her head. Bob swept her off his shoulders and hung her in the air by her feet. "We're both pretty strong."

Bandit wiggled and shrieked and tried to work her way free. Bob was unimpressed. Ebby, on the other hand, was _fascinated_. Mikey was no drummer, but it really didn't take that much effort to sweep the floor with Ebby's hair. The floor was gross, and he was totally going to have to give Ebby a bath before the show, but she was laughing, laughing in that way that never failed to make him laugh along.

Mikey looked up for a moment to find Bob watching him, his smile small and thoughtful.

Lyn said, "If they puke, the two of you are cleaning it up."

Yeah, Mikey'd done worse since becoming a parent.

*

Lyn left after a week, needing to get back to L.A., where MSI was recording. Gerard curled up with Mikey most nights, pre-empting whomever was supposed to be riding the Baby Bus, and buried his face in Mikey's shoulder blades. He didn't talk about missing Lyn, but Mikey knew Gerard. He appreciated the relative discretion, and he let Gerard borrow Ebby all he wanted.

The fifth night, though, Frank collected Gerard after the show and Bob followed Mikey back to the Baby Bus. Mikey checked in on Ebby, who was fast asleep, and asked Bob softly, "Frank got some hookers and blow over there?"

"The Naruto DVDs he'd ordered were delivered to the last hotel."

"Close enough."

Bob huffed in acknowledgment. "You want first shower?"

Mikey didn't really care one way or another, so he said, "All yours."

He settled in and checked his email, made himself send the pictures of Lyn and Bandit's visit to Alicia, did a quick read of CNN to make sure war hadn't broken out anywhere new, and tracked the shipping on the new shoes he'd ordered Ebby. She had managed to grow out of the two pairs they'd brought since the beginning of the tour. He had to stop feeding her or something.

When Bob hit him on the back of the head lightly with a towel Mikey got up and moved into the bathroom. Bob had left him enough hot water, and as much as Mikey loved Gee, it was nice, thinking that Bob was out there, probably making decaf coffee and finding something in Mikey's DVD collection that wouldn't involve actual thought.

Mikey stayed in the bathroom for a bit after turning off the water, letting the steam soak into him. They all joked about being too old for touring, and it _was_ a joke, but Mikey definitely felt it more than he had through his twenties. When he emerged, the bus smelled of coffee. He poured himself some, pulled on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and sauntered back to the lounge, where Bob was playing Django Reinhardt softly.

"How're your wrists?" Mikey asked, coming over to the couch.

Bob had gone in for touch up surgery about four months before the tour, and followed that up with physical therapy, the way he had to before nearly every tour now. "All right. I didn't take anything tonight, so, better than last."

"I keep thinking about how this is harder than it used to be, like, physically."

"It's called aging, Mikey."

"Yeah, no, I just-- I'm not homesick, is the thing. At all. And I usually am by this time."

Bob took a long pull of his coffee. "Is that a bad thing?"

"I just think--" Mikey drew his knees up, and rested his chin on them. "I think I should sell the house. I know it's Ebby's home, and all, but she's adjusted to the bus, so I'm pretty sure she'll adjust to a new house, and she's young. In a few years, she won't even remember that there was an earlier house, y'know?"

"I think we'll all move you for free."

Mikey looked up at Bob's tone. "You guys have talked about this."

"Way back. When you first told us. It was more along the lines of 'we're gonna do anything he needs,' but moving was definitely part of the discussion. That house is--" Bob looked down at his lap, seemingly struggling to find the words.

"No way to move on," Mikey said, flat and certain. He didn't know that he necessarily _wanted_ to move on, only that he had to. If nothing else, he owed Ebby that. He owed it to the guys.

"I think Gee mentioned there being places for sale in his subdivision."

Mikey rolled his eyes. "I'll bet he did."

Bob laughed. "More coffee?"

Mikey held out his cup.

*

Mikey must have fallen asleep on Bob in the lounge, because when he woke he had a chestful of sleeping toddler, and there was definitely a drummer arm wrapped low on his waist. He tilted his head down far enough to breathe in the scent of Ebby's hair and inhaled slowly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead on the exhale.

Bob murmured in his ear, "Brianne brought her in this morning."

"She getting some sleep?"

"Hope so. I told her to."

"Imma fall 'sleep 'gain," Mikey said through a yawn.

Bob's thumb brushed over the skin of Mikey's hip, just above the waist of his boxers. "Mm."

"Don' lemme drop her."

"You won't."

Mikey tightened his hold just in case.

The second time he awoke, he was being slobbered on. For a moment he thought he was at home, and Alicia had already gotten up and let Piglet out. Then tiny, very-human lips touched his nose and someone with a better grasp of the English language than the average Shar Pei said, "Daddydaddydaddy! Sunshine! Up up!"

Mikey opened one eye, and, sure enough, there was sunshine. "Urgh."

Bob, who was no longer behind Mikey, laughed and said, "C'mon," using warm hands to prop Mikey up into a sitting position, making sure Ebby wasn't rolled onto the floor.

Mikey opened his eyes again. "Your hands are warm. Coffee?"

Bob grabbed a cup from one of the cupholders. "The real stuff."

"I'd offer you my first born, but I think you'd take the coffee. Kidney?"

"Do you actually have one left?" Bob asked.

"Point. Wrist?"

"I'm waiting for the bionic version."

"Blowjob?" Mikey offered, before remembering that his almost-three-year-old daughter was sitting right next to him. He was pretty much the worst father in the world.

"Raincheck," Bob said, looking pointedly at said daughter.

"Do we have a show tonight?" Mikey asked, before something more awful could happen, like Brianne walking in and totally calling Family Services on him.

"Yeah. Dallas."

"'Kay. I'm gonna fingerpaint entirely appropriate pictures with my kid. Just in case you wanted to escape to safety, say."

"Are we wearing aprons?"

"Well. We have these large plastic bib-thingies. They cover her. I have special finger-painting jeans."

"How do I get me some of those?"

"Spend a few sessions fingerpainting in the same pair. Put 'em on reserve."

"No time to get in on that haute couture shit like the present, yeah?"

"Shit!" Ebby said, flapping her arms. Despite Mikey's best efforts, Bandit had managed to teach Ebby everything she knew. Gerard hadn't been so careful about his vocabulary in the formative stages.

"Shit-- I mean, um. Sorry." Bob had the good grace to look ashamed.

Mikey waved his hands. "Water under the bridge. You're in for making some masterpieces?"

"She got Gee's skills?"

Mikey smiled. "Oh, you'll see."

*

Mikey called Lyn before they got to L.A. and asked, "You still have the name of the real estate agent who sold you the house?"

Lyn said, "Sure. You thinking about getting somewhere to stay when you visit?"

Lyn and Gerard kept a condo in Jersey, since they were there just as often as not, really. Mikey could just agree, and Lyn wouldn't think anything of it. "Thinking of moving. Maybe. Well, definitely moving. Maybe to L.A."

"That'd be great, Mikes," she said softly. "Bandit'd be fucking thrilled to have her cousin around."

"Yeah, I-- Ebby should have family. Around." He'd wanted another kid. At some point he'd thought, _I had Gerard, and he had me_, and he'd kept thinking that it was just time, that Alicia would get used to it and then she'd love it and then-- Mikey made his brain shut the fuck up.

"I think there're some places around us. I could look into it. And send you that number."

"Thanks, Lyn."

"Not even."

Mikey hung up and went back to the lounge, where Ray was holding Ebby like a guitar and pretending to play her. She was making drum noises--well, "Boom! Boom! Boom!" noises, in any case.

Ray looked up. "I think she's been spending too much time with Bob."

Mikey shrugged. "Better Bob than Frank."

Ray tickled Ebby's stomach, pretending to riff. She shrieked. Ray grinned. "Fair."

Ray put her on the ground and Ebby ran to Mikey, who caught her up without even thinking about it. Her legs came around his waist and his arm wrapped directly around hers and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. She smelled like grape jelly. He said, "Hey there."

"We were making a song," she slurred, but Mikey could understand her words when they actually were words, rather than just sounds.

"Yeah? What were you going to call the song?"

She twisted her mouth at that and then got distracted by playing with Mikey's hair. Mikey looked back at Ray with a, _well, okay then,_ expression on his face. Ray asked, "You get hold of Lyn?"

"Yeah, she's gonna get me the number."

Ray sighed. "If asking Krista to leave her job weren't, y'know, the millionth fucking life change I'd be forcing upon her--"

"It's not like we won't be visiting Jersey. And Frank's still there. Gee's got the condo."

Ray nodded and didn't say anything. Mikey reached up and curled his hand over the back of Ebby's neck. It fit well within his palm. He said, "Yeah, I get that."

"Fucking Jersey," Ray said.

*

The real estate agent was a middle-aged man named Daniel who was a ginormous comics fanboy and had a pretty wry sense of humor. Mikey immediately understood how he'd been able to handle the complete wackadoodleness that was Gerard in house-buying mode.

They met at his office on the first morning that Mikey was in L.A. They'd already emailed back and forth, so Daniel knew basically what Mikey was looking for, and he already had several listings for him.

Mikey'd stayed in L.A. with Alicia enough times over the years that the city didn't precisely come without its own baggage. But Mikey wasn't moving his kid out to the badlands of North Dakota just to get some full-time peace for himself, if such a thing even existed. Mikey had survived the fucking Paramour, here. He could survive the echoes of his ex.

In the early afternoon, after seeing a couple of places that Mikey either felt were too small, or would require too much work, or were too near to main streets, Daniel showed him a house in a neighborhood a few blocks down from Gerard's. It would take crossing two major streets to get to Gee's place, so Ebby wasn't walking by herself until she was _at least_ twenty-one, but it would be an easy walk for the both of them. The park that Gerard was near to lay in between their two places, and the community was gated. Mikey always kind of felt like a pretentious ass for wanting a gated community, but he'd gotten too many Fan Letters From The Beyond (as Ray liked to call them) to deny the logic of doing so.

Gates made him feel like he could shut out people who didn't want to be shut out, if only for a while. He recognized that it was a false belief--Pete lived in a gated community and he regularly had to call the cops about people getting into his yard and other creepy-ass shit like that--but Mikey would take what he could get, especially with Ebby in the picture.

Daniel said, "This one was foreclosed, so the bank's owned it for the better part of a year. It's likely there's work needed."

Mikey could kind of tell from the state of the yard, which was overgrown, just this side of wild. He reached up and touched a palm leaf. He liked it; it was like being swallowed by something green and terrifying and new. Like being Max in Where the Wild Things Are. He needed to get a copy of that for Ebby. She was old enough to enjoy it. He shook his head, made himself concentrate. "Thanks for the warning."

The house was all warm wood, and Southern California autumn-tones on the outside. The hardwood floors of the inside were a light honey, though. They were in need of a refinishing, but Mikey could tell they would feel perfect under bare feet.

Daniel walked him through the house, showing him the layout. He toured through the kitchen first, where Mikey mostly noticed all the light, windows everywhere, and a walk-in pantry. He'd have to put all the stuff Ebby would want to get at on the top shelves.

There was a fireplace in the living area, which seemed funny. Mikey had never really gotten the point of fireplaces in states that never got cold. Daniel showed him the two bedrooms on the ground floor, one with an en-suite bathroom. There was a half bath near the other, and Mikey thought he could probably convert that room into a studio.

Upstairs there were another two rooms, one clearly the master bedroom. Mikey looked out the window into the backyard, equally overgrown as the front. There was no fence. "Is there a Homes' Association?"

"Yeah, but the code isn't one billion pages long, so they seem relatively chill."

"You can get me the code?"

"'Course."

"Have any idea if fences are allowed?"

"Definitely. I sold a house to another couple about a year ago, and that one had a privacy fence on it."

Mikey wondered idly what the water pressure was like. He wandered back into the room he would make Ebby's, a few feet down the hall from his own. There was a windowseat, and the lighting fixtures were well done. Mikey let himself think about what Gerard would paint on the walls, about the bookshelves Mikey could build with an afternoon trip to Ikea. New look, new stuff, new place. "How much are they asking?"

Daniel flipped through some papers. "$995,000."

"Offer 875, unless you think that's insulting."

"Not in the case of a bank. Also, I'll point out the flooring issue and that I think there might be some plumbing stuff after the water being off for so long. I mean, obviously we'll know more after the inspection, but they're good bargaining chips." There was a moment of silence and then Daniel said, "You're a little more decisive than your brother."

"And you have a gift for understatement."

*

Pete showed up to the LA concert with Ashlee, Bronx and Ursula. Ursula was still teething and Ashlee apologized for her crankiness about four times before Mikey swapped with her, Ebby for Ursula. For a moment, Ashlee looked uncertain of how she'd come into possession of a different child. Then she went with it, looking mildly grateful.

Mikey took Ursula and strapped her into the carseat in Pete's car, then held his hand out for the keys. Pete tossed them and climbed into the passenger seat, no questions asked. Mikey turned the radio to a station he remembered Pete liking last time they'd been together in a car in L.A. Pete murmured, "Sweet."

At the first stoplight, Pete said, "Tell me that this doesn't kind of sound like the worst idea ever: Target offered me a fragrance."

Mikey snorted. "What were they thinking? A little eau de bus?"

"Yeah, fuck if I know. Ash had some choice ideas for the commercial, though."

"I'll just bet." Mikey said. After a beat, he added, "You were tempted."

"So, so tempted. But then I had a dream about Britney Spears having children with the Jonas Brothers, all three of them, and I said to myself, 'Self, that is a sign,'"

"A sign of what?"

"I don't know, but clearly nothing good, so I told Target that I was busy being distracted by my teething offspring."

"Really?"

"I don't know, I had the lawyers deal with it."

"Mm," Mikey said. Pete always knew more than he admitted. Mikey turned in to the Red Mango lot. "This should help with the teething."

"I'm pretty sure Ash gave her a popscicle earlier today."

"You worried about her getting fat?" Mikey asked, already out of the car and working Ursula out of the carseat.

"Diabetes. Seriously, I read this pamphlet one time while Ash was getting a check-up during the pregnancy. Put the fear of G-d in me."

"You don't believe in G-d."

"Nope, but I believe in diabetes."

"I think this once she'll survive it. Kids are hardy."

"Yeah?" Pete asked, a slight twist to the question.

Mikey understood. He shook his head, but said, "I don't think Ebby's figured it out yet. Liesh wasn't around much toward the end, so it's not as though things are so different." Except for how they were, but that was Mikey's problem; the issues were in his head.

So of course Pete asked, "How 'bout you?"

Pete took Ursula from Mikey and Mikey opened the door for them, and for a while they were distracted by the technicalities of ordering and getting Ursula settled. But when Mikey was happily dipping into his Tangomonium, Pete said, softly and pointedly, "So."

Mikey smiled bitterly around his spoon. He swallowed and said, "I still wake up expecting her to come home."

"It hasn't been that long, Mikey."

"Eight months. And it was before that, it was so long before that, I was just-- I was lying. To her, me, us. I was lying and she was lying and we were both pretending like we didn't notice, didn't _know_."

"You were married a hell of a lot longer than eight months. In _love_ a lot longer."

Mikey sucked in a breath and looked at Pete. "I don't want this feeling to be reasonable."

Pete stared back for a moment, then nodded, slowly. He said, "I don't know how to help. You always know the right thing to say and I--I'm famous for saying all the wrong things."

Pete didn't say the wrong things, Mikey knew. He told the truth from his perspective. Most people just didn't want to hear it. It didn't change a thing, but Mikey admitted, "I miss you."

"I could find time to see you more. That's something I could do."

Mikey reached over and took a spoonful of Pete's parfait. "I'd like that."

Pete reached out with his spoon by way of retribution. Mikey let him.

*

The last date of the tour was in Colorado Springs. Mikey wasn't exactly sure how that had ended up happening--especially since Colorado was a hard place to play when fresh, given the altitude shift, let alone when all a guy wanted to do was sleep for three days straight--but the show ended up being pretty fantastic anyway. Gerard was excited to be going back home for a bit, and Jamia and Krista were both there for the show, so their energy was good. Toward the end, Mikey let Ebby come on stage. He put her on his shoulders and played, and the audience went fucking wild, like they'd never seen human young.

Afterward, Mikey gave Brianne the night off and took Ebby back to his hotel room, where he gave her a bath and read books to her until she fell asleep. He turned the baby monitor on and took his half with him to Frank's room. He wasn't surprised to find the rest of the guys there as well, plus Krista.

"How's my niece?" Jamia asked.

"Sleeping the sleep of the very sleepy."

Frank yawned as punctuation. Jamia elbowed him lightly. "You're so old."

"That bodes well for the rest of us," Ray said.

Krista laughed, her chin resting on Ray's shoulder. Mikey took a breath, then another. He said, "We're closing on the new place in a month."

Gerard looked up at that. "A month?"

"Got the call today. They took my last offer." Mikey was relieved, honestly, because it was the second time he'd gone up, and he wasn't willing to go up that much more, especially not knowing if there would have to be improvements. "So, time for the inspection and all that, and me to get the two of us packed up and then, yeah. New coast. She'll be able to play outside more. It'll be good."

"I can stay at your place while I'm helping you move, yeah?" Bob asked, like they'd already discussed this a million times and just hadn't ironed out the specifics.

Whatever, though, since Bob was always welcome, it was band policy. And even if it hadn't been, it would have been Mikey policy. "Yeah, sounds good. Thanks."

"When do you think you'll be settled?" Ray asked.

Mikey rubbed at the back of his neck. "Couple of months? I mean, I wanna give Ebby some time, but she'll have Bandit there, and Bronx, and Ash said she knows of a really good play group, so I'm thinking it might actually be fairly easy on her end. Homesickness hasn't been such a big thing on the tour, so much as missing--um, her mom, so I don't think moving is going to be some huge trauma."

"The label's kind of pushing for some overseas dates," Gerard said softly. "I've put them off so far, but I told them we'd consider it come fall."

"Overseas Asia or Europe?" Mikey asked.

"Both, either. They want what they can get, but I told them we'd do what we felt comfortable with."  
Mikey walked over and sat down on top of Gerard. Gerard fell backward onto the bed, taking Mikey with him. Mikey smiled. "You kick some ass, Gee?"

"I was totally fucking Batman, asshole, whatever."

Mikey closed his eyes. "Europe. She can make that trip. Asia's gonna have to wait. I'm not leaving her in the States with a babysitter while I go somewhere else. Not yet." Probably not ever, but Mikey figured he might grow out of his overprotectiveness issues in twenty years or so, maybe.

"We could take her to EuroDisney," Frank said, in that tone that suggested he'd thought of the Best Idea Ever.

"That'd be cool," Mikey allowed.

"EuroDisney, Mikeyway." Frank frowned to let Mikey know that his lack of proper enthusiasm was inappropriate.  
Ebby made a sleep-noise over the monitor and Frank said, "See, your kid's excited. She knows what's awesome."

"Genetically, she's half mine," Mikey pointed out.

"Clearly she was able to overcome that," Frank said.

Mikey closed his eyes and didn't think about how much the other half might have helped with that.

Ebby liked to hide in boxes. Mikey was pretty sure it was remembered behavior from watching Bunny and Pumpkin before Alicia got them in the divorce. He wasn't sure what it said about his parenting skills that his child had been home-schooled by felines, but nothing disastrous had yet occurred by way of curiosity or Hide 'n Go Box, so he figured that was okay, for the moment.

Gerard flew into town and stayed with them, trying to help, but Gerard was a fucking disaster at packing, so after a few days, Mikey just started sending him out on coffee runs for him and Bob. Frank was in charge of making sure they ate, and Ray was in charge of finding a moving company that wouldn't leave Mikey's stuff somewhere in Montana. Bob's true superpower was helping Mikey get rid of stuff that he didn't need. They had spent an excruciatingly long time in Mikey's closet, with Bob saying stuff like, "You haven't worn a Used shirt since Bert talked smack about Gee in a song."

"But technically, I still support them," Mikey pointed out. He did, just not in any way that was going to upset Gerard, so not so much visually.

"Support them by donating this and allowing it to be seen when someone actually wears it."

"Fine," Mikey said, aware that he sounded like a petulant teenager. He loved his t-shirts, the older and softer the better.

"When you get to L.A., you can go thrift-store shopping and fill in all the holes I'm drilling into your soul," Bob said dryly.

"I hate you," Mikey told him in the exact same tone.

Bob held up a PE shirt from Mikey's high school days. "The fuck, Mikes? You didn't even _like_ high school, let alone fucking PE."

And okay, Mikey'd give Bob that. "We can burn that one."

"I think the environment might appreciate donation more."

"Whatever."

In the kitchen, Bob found shit that Mikey was validly sure he hadn't put there. Which means it was Alicia's, but since when did Alicia cook or bake or really do much of anything that involved heat and edibles? Also, it wasn't as though Mikey hadn't allowed her to take what she'd wanted. Aside from his comic book collection, she'd had her pick. She hadn't taken much, but Mikey had understood that too, that need to start fresh. Of course, it left him with everything to deal with.

"Seriously, what the fuck is this?" Bob asked, holding out something that looked suspiciously like a cock ring with two parallel bars straddling it.

Mikey shivered. "Nothing I want in my kitchen."

Bob pulled out the Pacman oven mitts, looked at them for a second and said, "Yeah, no, I can't say that surprises me."

"We're keeping those," Mikey said.

"I actually do know you, Mikeyway," was all Bob said.

Sorting through Ebby's baby toys was everything that made up Mikey's definition of hell. Bob seemed to catch on quickly, how Mikey knew he should let go, should give things up to kids who actually needed them when Ebby had no interest anymore, but giving any part of her childhood away was so counterintuitive, giving away memories of times when Alicia had been there, had played with them-- Mikey finally said, "Just. You just do this. If you give away anything she misses, I'll replace it."

"I know her favorites," Bob said softly.

"Yeah," Mikey said, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna go work on the linens. I don't think I have a hell of a lot of excess on that front."

Bob said, "Sure," and waited until Mikey left the room to resume sorting.

*

Lyn brought coffee and donuts the first morning that Mikey woke up in his new house, both Ebby and he having camped out on the bedroom floor in sleeping bags. Ebby had found this to be a pretty awesome adventure; Mikey needed a really fucking hot shower and some ibuprofen.

Lyn, thankfully, took one look at him, kissed his forehead and said, "Shower. I'll watch the monster and keep the coffee warm."

Mikey was pretty sure he didn't say, _should have married you_, aloud. At least, he hoped not. He turned the water on hot enough to burn and praised heaven that the water pressure was almost hard enough to bruise.

By the time he emerged, scrubbed and dried and dressed, Gerard had arrived with Frank and Jamia. Mikey said, "You're in California."

"Surprise," Jamia said.

"Real friends don't let friends unpack alone," Frank told him through a mouthful of coffee. He didn't even spill any. It was a bizarre habit Frank had developed at the birth of his coffee addiction--so, if Frank's mom was to be believed, thirteen.

"Bob's getting in later this morning," Gerard said. "I'll go pick him up."

"Where's your kid?" Mikey asked.

"Babysitter," Lyn said. "Present from the gods."

Mikey missed Brianne. He'd almost asked her what it would cost to get her to move with them, for real, like an au pair. Instead he just said, "Okay, Gee, can you keep Ebby happy?"

"Ebby loves me," Gerard said, and literally puffed out his chest.

"Mm. Lyn, I need you to organize Ebby's room, if you can. Bob labeled all the kid boxes. I assume there's some sort of logic to them, but, um, Bob would really be the only one to know." He turned around and asked, "Jamia, can you lend me a hand putting the beds together?"

"Two, even," Jamia said dryly.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Frank, you're in charge of laundry. Towels, linens, everything, okay?"

"Is there fabric softener?" Frank asked. Frank was insanely thorough about laundry and got a freakish pleasure out of clean clothes, so Mikey felt confident he was the man for the job.

"Liquid, in with the cleaning supplies, which is where the ball and the detergent are. That box is labeled, too. Somewhere."

Frank nodded and loped off. Lyn said, "Upstairs and to the right, yes?"

Mikey said, "Yeah, first door."

Jamia said, "We should start with yours, so that Lyn can have that room."

"Probably a good idea. You can help me with the kitchen after that."

Jamia pushed him a little toward the stairs. Mikey reached back for his coffee and then let himself be pushed.

*

By the first evening, the house was in a decent state of livability. It was hardly fully unpacked or settled, but there were beds with sheets, bathrooms with towels, and a kitchen with plates. Mikey called that a win.

Bob said, "Mind if I take the couch?"

Frank and Jamia were staying at Gerard and Lyn's, and while Mikey had no doubt they'd offered, Bob was only a full-house kind of guy when they were on the road, and even then, only by necessity. Mikey said, "Yeah, couch is free."

Bob looked up at Mikey from where he'd already begun stripping the back cushions from the couch. "Mikey?"

"Hm?"

Bob tilted his head. Mikey felt like crossing his arms over his chest, but he didn't. He was in his own home, his daughter's breath was even on the monitor, and there was no reason to feel uncomfortable or defensive or anything other than fine. Bob, the fucker, just repeated, "Mikey."

Mikey shrugged. "Just new house jitters. Something."

"Wanna watch some TV or something?"

"Cable's not hooked up yet."

"DVDs. I can get the wiring set up."

Mikey nodded. Sound and pictures and things he'd seen again and again were probably the best antidote for whatever this was he _wasn't_ feeling. He could hear his therapist laughing at him. He should call him in the morning. It was late on the east coast, even later than it was here. And that was weird, too, even after nearly a lifetime of traveling, that he was three hours behind home--that home wasn't home.

Bob said, "'Kay," and got up to fuss around with the input/output cables, the ones Mikey always had to read the fucking instructions for, no matter how many times he'd set them up over the years. Bob was good at that kind of thing, a holdover from his tech years. From behind the entertainment center, Bob called, "You wanna pick something out?"

Mikey opened a nearby box and let his eyes roam over the titles. He was tired, a low-level headache pulsing behind his eyes and he hated that most of the titles had memories associated with them. He wondered, for a moment, why the fuck he hadn't just donated all this shit and found himself new movies to watch. He had no idea how long it had been when Bob came up behind him and said, "How 'bout _Brazil_?"

"Way to pick an upper."

"Hm," Bob said. "You showed it to me the first time. Remember? Right after Japan, when we were both sick of not being able to understand anything because it was mostly all dubbed?"

"Except the news," Mikey said, nodding. "And you can only watch so much of that."

"Unless you're Pete."

"Pete does watch a bizarre amount of news."

"He's waiting for them to create the technology where he'll be able to plug something into his brain and know what's going on all the time."

Mikey had to agree. "He'd probably volunteer for the experimental surgery."

"On that note, dystopia and torture?"

Mikey rubbed at his right shoulder with his left hand. "You do know how to tempt a boy."

Bob took over silently, and with both hands.

*

Mikey woke up to banging and off-key singing. For a second, he had no idea where he was, or whose chest he was lying on top of, whose hair was in his mouth. The last thing he remembered was--

Oh. He must have fallen asleep on the couch, on Bob, really. Mikey peered over the back of the couch, and sure enough, his daughter was on the kitchen floor, creating a band out pots and pans and her vocal chords. She hadn't inherited Gerard's skills.

Underneath Mikey, Bob said succinctly, "Blargh."

"Yeah," Mikey agreed and tried rolling off only to crash to the ground.

Bob blinked at him. "You okay?"

"Ow." Mikey sighed and pushed himself into a standing position.

Bob laughed a little at that, not unkindly. If anything, it was sympathetic laughter. And a moment later he was also vertical and making his way to the kitchen, so Mikey was hard-pressed to hold a grudge. Mikey scrunched down next to Ebby and asked, "Are you writing a song?"

She nodded. "'Bout vamp-pires." She liked to enunciate her p's.

"Yeah?" Mikey asked. He wasn't, per se, shocked, except that her answer had been so straightforward. Most of the time there were strings of unintelligible information from which he could extract one or two words, at most. But she'd lately been super into vampires, or, well, anything she _called_ a vampire. Since Gerard had taught her the word, that had included everything from her stuffed Elmo to Piglet to Gerard himself. (The last had pleased Gerard to no end. He had never been able to get Bandit to believe he was anything supernatural. She had been blessed--thankfully--with the disposition of a Doubting Thomasina.)

Ebby nodded. Her explanation was more like the normal, a string of neverending syllables from which Mikey rescued "pig" and "blue" and "uncle," but he hadn't a clue what connected any of them to each other, let alone to vampires.

He said, "Can I hear the song?"

Bob, who was standing by the coffee machine, clearly willing it with his mind to work more quickly, gave Mikey a Look. Mikey smirked unrepentantly. Loud and crazy or not, his kid was awesome. The thought felt free of weight for a moment, free of the follow-up, which was the awareness that he wouldn't have given this up, not even to have Alicia back. The second thought came, but it was slower to sneak up than usual, which pleased Mikey.

Ebby was in what might have been the second verse, or maybe a bridge, or, well, possibly a completely different song, when Bob handed Mikey a mug of coffee. Mikey burned his mouth on the first sip, and winced.  
Bob murmured, "In other news, coffee is hot."

Mikey threw his elbow back into Bob's shin. Bob muttered something Mikey was pretty sure Ebby was going to repeat at the most inappropriate moment possible. She had that skill in spades.

She stopped with her song and said something that sounded much like, "lojigana_hurt_ applebiscadi_Bob_?"

Bob said, "Just a bruise."

Mikey said, "You've actually learned Ebby speak."

"Fluently."

Ebby looked at the place where Bob had pointed to the supposed bruise. She glanced at Bob. "Kiss?" She made a smooching noise.

Bob said, solemnly, "That would make it all better."

She grinned, puckered her lips and made her way over to Bob with full-on kissy-face.

*

After a week of both of them falling asleep on the couch, waking up tangled in each other and generally with cricks in their necks and bruises that hadn't been there the night before, Bob said, "I'm not trying to be forward or anything here, but you do have a DVD player in your room. We could do this in a bed."

Mikey blinked at Bob not so much for the suggestion, but its disclaimer. Bob had been discreetly out amongst those who knew him since Mikey had met him and he'd never felt the need to explain to any of them that he wasn't hitting on them when they wrestled/hugged/snuggled/engaged in any type of physical activity. Mikey wasn't sure how to call Bob on it, though, so he said, "Okay."

Bob seemed to pick up on Mikey's second of hesitation, because his, "Okay," was a little slower than it probably would have otherwise been.

Mikey said, apropos of nothing (which felt safer than saying anything that related to anything), "Fair warning: today is Dog Bath Day."

"I get Watson," Bob said.

"Well, okay, but Edgar and Watson come as a pair on Bath Day."

"That's cheating, Mikeyway."

Mikey had no shame. "What, like the time you brought Maisey over--"

"Seriously, I didn't know she had fleas. You are never going to let that go, are you?"

"I had to replace three rugs and most of my sets of linens." No, Mikey had no intention of letting that go, ever.

"Yeah, well, she's currently staying with my mother instead of with her dad so I can help you out, so suck it."

"You could've brought her," Mikey said. "_She_ couldn't have known she had fleas. Besides, she loves your mom way more than you."

"Low, Way."

"But true." Mostly because Bob's mom spoiled the hell out of his dogs.

Bob flipped Mikey the bird. "Well, if Edgar comes with Winston, Ebby clearly comes with Pig."

Mikey opened his mouth to argue. When he realized he didn't have anything to argue with, he just said, "I actually hate you."

Bob smiled, clearly going for disingenuous. Mikey was having none of it. He waited until he was well on his way to Ebby's room to snicker. She was already up, unshockingly, reading herself nonsense words from one of her board books. Mikey hefted her up in the air and said, "Morning, Ms. Elina."

"Daddy!"

He tucked her under his arm, listening to her laughter, and managed to keep her fairly happy all the way through the diaper change, which could be something more than a challenge most days. She didn't like the whole lying-still part. She was positively _thrilled_, though, when Mikey pulled out her bathing suit, and she babbled at him cheerily all the while he was twisting her into it.

When he got her to the kitchen, Bob had already poured her cereal and started the coffee. Mikey said, "I hate you slightly less," and settled Ebby in her chair.

Bob said, "I set up the hose in the backyard and found the box with the supplies."

"Don't assume you can win back my affection with manual labor. I'm not easy."

Bob got out two mugs and wisely kept quiet.

*

Mikey'd gotten a new bed when he'd moved to California, and moved the old one into the guest room. He'd been having trouble sleeping in it since the divorce papers had been delivered, and it seemed like giving a different set-up a try couldn't hurt. Now that Bob was sitting beside him while they flipped channels, he was glad he'd done it. It was one thing to have Gerard with him in what had been his and Alicia's bed. Bob was something else.

It didn't really make sense, Mikey could acknowledge, because Bob was part of the band, which wasn't that far removed from Gerard, only somehow it was. Bob poked at the fitted sheet covering the mattress. "This is one of those space foam beds, isn't it?"

"Supposedly, I could jump around with a glass of wine and not spill," Mikey told him informatively.

"Useful."

"Yeah, that was really the selling point for me."

Bob grinned. "Okay, your choices are: late night infomercials, Sportscenter, or Law & Order."

Mikey stole the remote. "I can't believe you just said 'Sportscenter' with a straight face." He scrolled through the guide until he found Night Swim and settled.

"I was trying to expand your horizons."

"My horizons expand to Japan," Mikey said, squirming down a little, to get comfortable, which necessarily included making Bob a backrest.

Bob said, "But not to baseball."

"You don't even like sports."

Bob huffed. "I like the luge."

"I-- Okay." Honestly, what was there to say to that?

"I'm just saying, it's hard not to want to watch a dude who's willing to essentially settle himself in a tin can and ride a track at the speed of sound, or some shit."

"I like it when the ski people flip in the air," Mikey offered.

"You would have been such a skater boy if you had ever left the house before pubescence," Bob said regretfully.

"Right, but then what would Gee have done?"

"You make a good point."

Mikey yawned. "I'm making a lot of good points. I win."

"Were we arguing?"

"Fuck if I know, I'm tired."

"Want me to leave?"

Mikey just fisted his hand in Bob's shirt and let that do the talking for him. It was okay for his hand to admit that he didn't want to sleep alone, after all, wanted someone to be there even if it wasn't his wife. Ex-wife.

Bob said, "Mm," and turned the lamp off.

*

Gerard kidnapped Mikey one morning with coffee and a nod to Bob. Mikey said, "What?"

Gerard said, "We had plans to drive the 101 today."

"No," Mikey said. "No, we didn't."

Gerard was undeterred. "Well, now we do."

The coffee smelled really good, and Bob wasn't likely to lose Mikey's child this early in the day, so, "Okay."

Gerard cranked the windows open until they got to the highway, but then he rolled them up and asked, "The house is good?"

Mikey looked sideways at him, because what? "You've been."

"I meant for you and Ebby."

"We're settling. Wanna get to the point?"

"Not really," Gerard admitted.

"Okay," Mikey could handle that. Sometimes these things took time, and Mikey wasn't even sure _he_ wanted Gerard to get the point, seeing as how he didn't know what the point was. "Wanna at least put on some music, then?"

"iPod's in the glove compartment," Gerard told him.

Mikey pretended that he wasn't freaked out by the fact that Gerard had just handed complete control of the music over to him. He picked out Gerard's favorite playlist, just to get them back on equal footing.

An hour in, when neither of them had said anything else, Gerard turned down the volume and said, "Um. You haven't really been very, uh, MikeyGee type Mikey, lately."

It took Mikey a few moments to figure that one out, which actually proved Gerard's point. Mikey wasn't even sure he'd _texted_ Gerard in the last couple of days, and their average when they weren't on a bus together was ten a day, minimum. Mikey looked out the window and said, "I think I've been trying not to say the same thing over and over again. And I know you'll kinda let me, so."

"Maybe you should? I mean, I dunno. What's your shrink saying? Mine was always all, 'You'll know when you're ready to say something else, just be honest,' but she was kind of a hippie, so, yeah."

"My shrink thinks I'm stuck, but that it's okay to be stuck. Probably the same thing."

"Yeah," Gerard said softly. Then, after a few seconds, "Wanna repeat yourself a little? Because, well, if nothing else than because I miss you."

Mikey reached over and tucked his hand behind Gerard's neck. "Gee."

"C'mon. You know if Lyn left I'd write like an entire fucking album of whiny, pissy songs about it. You're allowed."

Mikey knew he was allowed. He just didn't really _want_ to talk about feelings he didn't want to have in the first place. "Mostly, I would like to fucking wake up, just one day, and not think about calling her or texting her or the way she tasted after her first coffee or the way she'd laugh when I most needed it or the feel of her breath when we were falling asleep. I just want to not think about any of it."

Gerard nodded.

"Sometimes, Ebby will stand in a way that reminds me of her, or say something that's just _so_ fucking Liesh, and it's like, I don't fucking know, like someone took all my organs out and put them back in wrong or something. Which is stupid, because it's not like she's fucking dead. I could call her, or--"

"Mikey."

"I want my wife back. I want my fucking wife back. It's been nearly a year, longer than that if you count how much she was out on the road before that, and that's still all I can think."

"So keep thinking it," Gerard said.

Mikey laughed, not in a particularly amused way, and ran a hand over his face.

"Keep thinking it, keep saying it. You'll eventually get tired of it. You know you will. It's like listening to the same album over and over again non-stop. Eventually, you never want to hear the album again."

"I don't think divorce really works that way."

"But you're thinking about trying it." It wasn't a question.

Mikey made a face. "Just drive."

*

Maybe Mikey had needed permission, just a little bit, because he started noticing the way it got easier to say things like, "Alicia was always better at this shit," when the chain in the toilet tank slipped and he had to reconnect it. Or to tell Bob, "You make better coffee than she did," or confide to Piglet, when they were rolling around on the ground, "Your mom should be in this pile with us."

Bob was good at taking the information Mikey doled out in silence, at letting him talk if he needed to and not seeming let down when he didn't. Bob was, in general, kind of a master of comfortable silence, which was nice, because Ebby very rarely stopped talking unless she was asleep. Mikey liked that, actually, liked that he almost always knew where she was, what she was thinking (well, assuming he could parse the babble), what was going on with her, but his ears got tired.

It made it easier, when Ebby would ask where mommy was--generally after Alicia had called that week--to say, "Being a rockstar, baby."

It didn't make it all that much easier when Alicia called him and said, "I'm gonna be in L.A. for a little bit. Like a break, little bit. Can I see her?"

Mikey didn't think he'd meant to ask, "Do you really want to?"

But that was what came out of his mouth when he opened it. Alicia said, "Mikey--"

Mikey rubbed a hand over his face, but relented a bit, if only by way of tone. "I mean it, Alicia. Because she asks about you a _lot_, and just, if this is something you're gonna do for a few years and then not, or only every once in a rare while if it happens to be good for you, I don't know. I don't think that's good for her."

Alicia was quiet for a bit. "Good for her, or good for you?"

Mikey's chest hurt, but he granted her point. "Both. Either. Is it really all that good for _you_? I mean--"

"I don't want her to just not know me. I'm not fucking _dead_. I don't want that, Mikey. And can you honestly say you think that's the best idea?"

The problem, Mikey thought, was that he'd grown up a little too close to both his grandmother and his mother to reply in the affirmative. "How long's a little bit?"

"Month, probably. Maybe six weeks."

"'Kay. What were you thinking? Once, a few times, once a week?"

"Maybe once a week, like the phone calls. Give her a schedule."

Mikey closed his eyes, remembering how they had read all the baby books together--if not in the same room, curled up next to each other, then over the phone or by text, talking about what was in each chapter. "Yeah, that's-- I'll talk with the guys, see what works."

"Mikey, I, um, you could come."

Mikey was an adult and all, he probably could, but, "That's not really gonna happen yet."

The fucked up part was, after nearly a year technically apart she still knew him almost as well as anyone, well enough to say, "Yeah, okay."

"She'll be happy to see you," he said, like a peace offering, because despite himself, he still hated the way her voice had gone a little quiet, a little flat.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, me too."

The silence that followed that statement was awkward, more an ellipsis than a pause. Mikey said, "I'll call you when I know something," because it was better than saying, "We miss you. I miss you."

"I'll be waiting."

*

Gerard started coming over, Ray generally in tow, sometimes Frank. They would sit at Mikey's table, raid his pantry for popcorn and chips, and write. At first, it was all crap, but that was how it was between them, so none of them felt particularly surprised or all that pressured. They could always do some more touring before releasing another album, if they really couldn't come up with anything.

Lyn had agreed easily to take Ebby to Alicia. Mikey'd asked, "You guys still close?"

Lyn said, "Mikey--"

He said, "No, I mean. It was just a question. It's--that's good."

She looked compassionate but not particularly apologetic, and Mikey kind of of loved that about Lyn, how she did what she thought was right even in tough situations. He said, "It's not like I stopped loving her."

She said, "Yeah, it would've been easier if it had been that simple."

And well, Mikey could agree with that. Lyn said, "I don't know if you can see it or hear it or if you even want to, want to listen, but it's the same, with her. Just because she--"

Mikey put a hand to her mouth. It was the kind of gesture he generally only did with the guys, with Alicia, but Lyn let him, nodded. "Okay. Okay, babe."

Mikey said, "I owe you coffee."

She shook her head even as she grinned and said, "And cake."

Mikey smiled back. "Sure, cake."

Which meant that three weeks in to Alicia being in town, after a day of largely fruitless writing, when Gerard had finally left in half-hearted defeat, Mikey got out a Betty Crocker cake mix box and told Ebby, "We're baking."

Ebby clapped her hands and danced and babbled in spite of the fact that Mikey wasn't entirely sure she had the word "baking" and the concept hooked up in her mind. It wasn't exactly something they did a lot. Bob, on the other hand, looked mildly trepidatious. "What are we baking?"

"Cupcakes. Don't worry, I can actually do this without burning my house down."

Bob said, "Okay, but I get to crack the eggs."

"Just don't let Ebby in on that action. Also, that means you have to separate the paper thingies."

"Diabolical."

"Whatever, I'm the one doing the mixing. And letting my child pour things in my vicinity."

"You make a strong argument."

Mikey snickered. By the time Bob had gotten the cupcake pan lined and the eggs broken, Mikey had a fair amount of cocoa on his face from Ebby's pouring techniques, and all three dogs were milling around hopefully. Bob poured the eggs into the mix and then moved behind Mikey, helping him to stir. Mikey appreciated it, the abnormal motion making his muscles ache. Bob was warm at his back, solid, and Mikey didn't even think about the supreme ease of just leaning back into him.

Bob said softly, "Mikes, you should see her before she leaves."

Mikey would have dropped the spoon had Bob's hand not been around his. "Bob--"

"You've been places where people are drinking and you haven't fallen off the wagon. A bunch of times. If anything, it's helped solidify your determination. Sometimes you have to just face up to shit. Let it scare and hurt the hell out of you and realize you survived. And you know it."

Ebby, who was sitting on the counter, attempted to stick her finger in the batter, but Bob caught it. "Uh uh, no salmonella for you, young lady."

Ebby pouted and was clearly about to have a temper tantrum, so Mikey told Bob, "You stir," and swept Ebby off the counter down to the floor, where the dogs converged on her and her cocoa-infused hair. It was too much for her to hold out against, and she laughed.

Bob said, "Mikey."

"I'll think about it," Mikey said.

Bob sighed, but said, "Okay."

*

Lyn hadn't said a word when Mikey'd called her at seven-thirty the morning she was supposed to come pick Ebby up at nine and take her to see Alicia, so Mikey suspected that Bob had run some interference. He was glad. He'd barely managed to convince himself it was the right thing to do; he wasn't going to be able to manage anyone else.

He took extra care dressing Ebby, like Alicia had never seen her before or something. He took less care than normal dressing himself, in some bizarre act of defiance that he couldn't have explained even to Gerard, who always got those things. On the way there, Ebby and he listened to The Zombies. Ebby sang along, or at least lalala'ed along. Mikey smiled despite himself.

He got out of the car and held Ebby's hand walking into the McDonald's where Alicia generally met up with Lyn. There was a playground that Ebby could toddle around in with parent supervision, and she and Alicia could share hash browns.

Alicia blinked when he came to the table and sat down. She said, "Hi. Um. Hi?"

She looked good, fucking great. Her hair was shiny and longer than it had been, falling nearly to her shoulderblades. She'd put on a little bit of muscle, a little weight in her face, and the exhaustion of the last months that they'd been around each other had dropped away. Mikey felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach, and also, like the fist in his chest had finally loosened up. He couldn't process the different reactions.

Alicia said, "I--I'm glad you came."

Mikey wasn't exactly sure that he was, but he found himself saying, "Yeah. Yeah, I--"

She laughed, nervous and a little too giddy. He sympathized. Ebby was tugging at his hand, so he let go, letting her go climb on Alicia's lap. Alicia tugged at one of the oh-so-neat pigtails Mikey had painstakingly braided and said, "Hey, baby girl."

Ebby attached herself to Alicia with slug-like precision and started telling her about her new squid doll, compliments of Frank, who was insistent Ebby learn the animal kingdom by way of plushies. Mikey was convinced he would one day drown in a sea of stuffed animals. The only words Mikey could distinguish were "legs" and "lecaphelop," which was Ebby's version of "cephalopod." Mikey had tried to convince Frank that the latter was a bit beyond her years, but Frank was bizarrely insistent that Ebby was a genius. Mikey didn't doubt her intelligence, but it seemed pretty normal, all things considered.

Alicia clearly didn't understand anything but "legs," but she was nodding, and holding on to Ebby well enough to ensure she didn't fall. Mikey wasn't sure what that said about the situation, but he somehow felt that it was a kind of metaphor for everything.

He said, "I'll go get hashbrowns. You want coffee?"

Alicia looked up at him. "McLatte."

Mikey would have given her shit, but he was probably going to get one himself, and also, he wasn't sure he could joke around with her just yet. Just being near her made his skin feel raw, like it had gotten too close to a fire. He took a breath. "'Kay."

Mikey took his time at the counter, trading small talk with the kid behind the register in a way he usually wouldn't. The kid clearly knew who he was, and, just as clearly, was trying to act cool and unaware. Mikey paid in cash and signed the back of the receipt, sliding it over and turning around with his tray just as the kid started to grin. He made his way back to the table and put the tray down.

"So, something has a lot of legs," Alicia said.

"Frank gave her a stuffed squid."

"Oh. Oh, wow, that makes so much more sense than the possibilities I'd come up with."

Mikey nodded and took a sip of his coffee before breaking one of the hash browns into Ebby-sized pieces. Hesitantly, he asked, "How're Bunny and Pumpkin?"

"Still generally pissed off at my antics. How're the boys and Pig?"

"Ebby tried riding Edgar a couple of days ago. He's gotten a little skittish since, but mostly everyone gets along."

"You gonna get another cat?"

Mikey looked at Ebby and said, "I've got enough going on. You gonna get another dog?"

"Not quite ready," Alicia said, looking straight at him.

Mikey took another sip of his coffee before looking back and saying, "Yeah. There's that, too."

*

Mikey put Ebby down for a nap after they got back home and sat at his kitchen table writing _angrysadsadangry_ bass lines that he knew when he went back to look at would sound like something an acne-ridden fifteen-year-old skater boy would write. He didn't care. The depression of the graphite against the paper over and over again was cathartic.

When his hand went past cramping and into actual pain, Mikey took one of the baby monitors and went outside, where he threw the ball with enough force and regularity that he wore even Winston out. He was still going at it when Bob's arms came around his hips.

Mikey jumped. "Didn't hear you get back."

"Yeah, you're kinda zoning." Bob stayed where he was, though, not backing off, and Mikey was glad. He didn't need any more personal space than he'd been given by Alicia, thanks.

"Where've you been?"

"Patrick asked me to come out and work on some stuff with him."

"Yeah? How's the album coming?" Mikey asked.

"Like all of his solos, fine until he remembers that he kind of likes the drama of group creation."

"Also known as missing Pete."

Bob laughed softly. "Also known as that."

Piglet trotted up to them and looked at Bob hopefully, like he was someone who might actually rub her tummy instead of using play time as an excuse to run her to death. Bob let go of Mikey and got on his knees to acquiesce, nuzzling her and asking, "What did the mean Mikey do to you, huh, huh?"

"Sure, take her side," Mikey said, but he sat down, too, letting Edgar and Winston approach in the hope of pets.

Bob asked, "How'd it go?"

"Well, I mean, we didn't get thrown out of McD's, or anything."

"Mikey."

Mikey shrugged. He wasn't sure what there was to say that wasn't obvious. He was kind of still in love with his ex. She was kind of still in love with him. None of that changed anything, and it wasn't as though, knowing what he knew, he'd give Ebby up for it to be different. So the situation was the definition of 'it is what it is.'

"It was probably good," Mikey said. "You were right, about me needing to just man up or whatever."

"But you kinda wanna scratch someone's eyes out with your fingernails?"

"Or at least pull all their hair out. Or, hey, key their car."

Bob looked at him. Mikey flipped him the finger. "It's a very satisfying feeling."

"I've actually never done it," Bob admitted.

"Really? Gee and I used to do it to the jocks all the time back in high school."

"It's really kind of amazing that neither of you ended up in jail or dead."

"Right, sure, but what doesn't kill you and all that."

"Mm," Bob said. "We could find a junkyard. Key the living shit out of every car in sight."

"I can't believe you just came up with a viable way for me to relive my childhood delinquency."

"Well, I wasn't there the first go 'round."

Mikey reached over to scratch at Pig's ticklish spot. "You're here now."

*

"Did you write this?" Gerard asked.

"When did you get here?" Mikey asked in return, moving into the kitchen with Ebby clinging to one side. She was still sleep-mussed, her breath warm against his neck. Mikey thought it was maybe his favorite feeling in the world.

"Brought coffee," Gerard said, gesturing to the thermos on the table, like that was an answer.

Mikey accepted it like it was one, along with the coffee, which he took a swig of one handed. He put Ebby in her booster chair and had straightened up to go get her some juice when he realized what Gerard was actually looking at. "Did you go through my _trash_?"

Gerard smoothed down the crumpled evidence of Mikey's emo burst two days earlier and said, "They were on top. I saw the notes."

"Not normal, Gee."

Gerard looked up at that, clearly so confused that Mikey would bring the term "normal" into a conversation about them that he was unsure of how to respond. Then he looked back down. "This is good."

"Um, no," was all Mikey felt the need to say. He hadn't actually looked at the stuff before he'd thrown it away, but he could remember the way he'd felt while writing it. No way was there any merit to it.

"Um, yes," Gerard said. "I mean, it's not exactly what we usually do, starting from the bass line and building up, but I bet Ray would be on board with that. It's doable."

"Gerard--"

"These are good," Gerard said again, staring Mikey down this time. "Theme-building good."  
"I don't want a record about my angst, Gee. That's your scene."

"I don't have enough angst for a whole album right now, Mikey. The band needs your help. Take one for the team, Way."

Mikey had nothing to say to that. Or, well, he did, but nothing that was going to derail Gerard when he got like this. "Okay, but you show the others, and if any single one of them says the idea sucks, we get to win."

"Majority vote."

"No, Gee. I get any support, I win."

Gerard grumbled and continued to smooth out the paper--which was as flat as it was ever going to return to being. "Fine."

Mikey rolled his eyes. Ebby was starting to grumble to herself, so he got a move on with the juice and her cereal. Once served, she settled right down.

"Oh, hey, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios," Gerard said.

Mikey got out another bowl.

The cat found Mikey, not the other way around. He couldn't even tell what kind she was when she sneaked between the slats in the fence at early dusk one evening. He caught a flash of her eyes outside the sliding door and watched, spellbound. She headed straight under the porch and Mikey thought, huh, because it seemed like he would have noticed a cat living under his frickin' porch.

He told himself he wasn't going to feed her. He told himself that for three days. She would find someone else to feed her. Only, then she disappeared for the better part of a week, and when she came back, she wasn't just matted, emaciated and missing part of one ear, like before--she was limping.

Mikey swore silently, his lips moving but nothing coming out. That night, he left tuna under the porch. Just this once, he figured. Then she'd be strong enough to go somewhere without dogs (who, admittedly, were used to and kind of loved cats, but that wasn't the point, all right) and a toddler and a man who wasn't ready to fucking commit, again, okay?

Only, morning came, and it was a bit of a chilly morning, at least for L.A. The damn thing had fur (matted, so much so that it would probably have to be shaved if-- It wasn't coming inside, fuck), she'd be fine, but Mikey supposed it wouldn't hurt to put out a little of last night's leftover chicken meat and some water. She had been hurt, after all, and if Bunny had been wandering around, hurt, he'd want someone to help her out. Of course, Bunny wasn't a wild cat, and that was a ridiculous thing to think. It didn't change the fact that Mikey had thought it.

Mikey liked to blame the actual adoption of Catpilla--Ebby's version of Caterpillar, her new favorite word and name for everything, thanks to Eric Carle--on Edgar, who'd sniffed Cat--Bob's nickname, thanks--out and refused to come inside. Mikey wavered in a detente for three days, but then it rained, and he had to give in; Ebby would have cried otherwise. Also, Mikey was weak.

Mikey took her to the vet within hours of Edgar prodding her into the house. He was unshocked to find that she had fleas--he'd have to clean everything when they got home. The matting in her fur was too extensive to do anything but shave it, which revealed just how close to starvation she was and how many fights she'd probably gotten into. That said, she'd clearly had a home at some point, because she hadn't done much more than half-heartedly swipe at Edgar's nose, dissuaded when he nudged her with the full force of it, and she'd barely shied from Mikey at all. He figured her for a long-lost runaway, or the runt of a litter who'd simply been turned out.

She stared out at him with scared eyes from the kennel--he'd had to use Watson's. It was too big, but the best he had--on the way home, he told her, "Sorry I've been kind of a dickface. Not your fault you're a cat, y'know?"

She'd just continued to stare. Mikey figured he sort of deserved that.

When they got home, Bob met him at the door and said, "I called someone out to clean the rugs and carpets. Oh, and cleaned Ebby with the stuff you got last time Watson had the flea infestation, but she actually didn't look like she'd picked up any."

Mikey let Cat out of the kennel. (Ebby had screamed, "Cat-pilla!!" with delight the moment Edgar had gotten the cat in the house. Mikey'd started to say, "No, cat," but then realized there were some fights not worth taking on. "Catpilla it is.") "Well, that's something. Where is she?"

"In her room, drawing." Bob held up the monitor and Mikey realized that the background noise he hadn't even processed was his daughter singing Green Day circa 1994. All the other parents were going to hate him.

He looked over at where Cat was very cautiously checking out the lay of the land. She got to Piglet in due time. Pig took being sniffed and poked and even kneaded at one point with great patience and dignity and only gave into her clearly grave need to groom the shit out of Cat once Cat had accepted that she wasn't going to be eaten, chased or really much more than licked to death by Pig.

Mikey watched for a long moment and then turned back to Bob. "So, um. If you wanted to get the dogs, y'know, from your mom's. I mean, I just adopted a cat and all. I don't really have much of a leg to stand on."

"This is your house," Bob pointed out.

"Right, but you make breakfast most days, so there is that."

"I make coffee," Bob said.

"Six to one."

"Mikey."

Mikey looked away. "I can't really talk about this."

Bob waited. Mikey said, "I adopted a cat."

Bob waited a little longer, but Mikey really was very fucking done. Fuck. A cat. This was probably not as big a deal as he was making it out to be. He should call his shrink, probably.

Eventually Bob said, "Okay, sure."

"Okay," Mikey said. "I'm gonna go draw. With my kid."

"Yeah. I'm gonna go buy us some cat litter before it becomes an issue."

"Right."

*

Cat ended up being a long-haired tortoiseshell, which meant she was probably the prettiest cat Mikey'd ever seen--missing half of her ear, scars and all--but she also shed like it was going out of style. Mikey took up a relationship with vacuuming, which, as it turned out, was very soothing.

Ray came back in town and rented an apartment, which Mikey took as a sign that they were settling down to write. Mikey called Lyn and talked about daycares and maybe a preschool. Ebby was turning four soon, so he probably should have gotten on that a year ago, but he was showing her the sights along the highways of America at that time. He figured there was a place for alternative education. Besides, Sesame Street had gotten her straight on the alphabet, and her colors and shapes, so all in all, he thought she probably wasn't too behind, if at all.

He started dropping her off at the daycare Lyn had suggested three days a week, and he was surprised how badly he was ready to have her back after she'd only been gone five hours. After the first day--when she'd clung to his shoulders and given him big, wet eyes that almost stopped him from leaving--she started being ready to leave before Mikey had even started his coffee. She didn't exactly whine about having to go home in the afternoon, but it always took a while for her to say goodbye to all of her friends and show him what she'd done that day.

Gerard asked, "Was Alicia, like, super friendly as a kid, or some shit?"

Mikey shrugged. "She sure as shit didn't get it from me."

"Yeah, I was there. You got milk dumped on you like six times your first year of preschool."

"I think that was just because people didn't notice me," Mikey told Gerard.

"You weren't actually invisible. I would have remembered that."

"Maybe your super power was being able to see me."

Gerard opened his mouth but then considered. "Huh. Maybe."

Mikey smiled a little. Ray looked up from where he was making notes at the table, evidently only pretending not to pay attention, and said, "We're not writing a superhero song, Gee."

"But if we made it a metaphor about family--"

"No," Ray said, going back to whatever he was working on.

"It makes sense, though, because the album is really about family, like, about choices and construction, and we could fit--"

"No," Ray repeated.

Gerard said, "You're just jealous because I can see Mikey. Your superpower is probably something stupid, like--"

"Playing a guitar?" Ray quipped.

"Low, Toro." Gerard pouted for a moment, then flounced off to get coffee.

Frank chimed in with, "I was gonna say taming the wild Geeway, but hey, if the guitar's what gets your motor running."

Ray looked up again, rolling his eyes. "I see Mikey just fine."

"Maybe you leech other people's superpowers," Frank suggested.

"What, you don't see me?" Mikey asked.

Frank looked at Mikey very, very seriously. "My superpower is omniscience, Mikeyway."

"And mine?" Bob ventured. Mikey had really thought he was going to take the high road and stay out of this conversation, but evidently not.

Gerard returned with his coffee and said, "Easy. You're the Mikey Whisperer."

*

Mikey wasn't fucked up when he followed the guy into the bathroom after Patrick's club show. Or, at least, he wasn't chemically altered. Fucked up in any other way? Possibly.

The guy looked out of place at the show--he was large, clean-cut, and stood quietly, drinking slowly through most of the show. Mikey caught the guy checking him out somewhere in the middle of the fourth song. By the end of the show, the deal was basically, silently sealed.

Mikey hadn't done this in a long time; definitely not since he'd started mooning over Alicia. Even before that, he hadn't been doing it as much. It worried Gerard, made Ray go quiet and nervous for days on end. He shouldn't do it now, it was a stupid thing to do, and he had a kid who needed him, expected him to be there for her, be a grownup. But Mikey felt like he had too much air inside himself, and none of it for breathing. He looked over at where Bob was talking with Partick's sound guy, and Pete and Ashlee were chatting with Lyn and Gerard. Gerard caught his eye. Mikey smiled a little and then motioned with his head toward the restroom area. Gerard didn't have to know he'd be in there with someone else.

Mikey let the guy handle him. It wasn't rough, just steady, the way he pushed Mikey to his knees, held his palm to the back of Mikey's head. Mikey closed his eyes, lost himself in the rhythm the guy set. He didn't really want to do much work--just the sucking was enough to think about, to drown out other things.

This was different, so far from anything he had done with Alicia, even when dildos had been involved. The guy was making encouraging noises, a few yeses here and there. Mikey liked that, enjoyed that moment where he was the only thing a person wanted, even if it wasn't really about him.

When he finished, the guy returned the favor, and Mikey leaned back against the cool metal of the stall and didn't think, made himself stay in the hot, wet slide of the guy's mouth, the soft silk of his hair between Mikey's fingers.

The guy preceded Mikey out of the bathroom, and Mikey took his time, cleaning up at the sink, breathing. When he reemerged, Pete was waiting on the other side of the door. Mikey said, "Seriously?"

"I actually thought you'd gotten sick," Pete admitted. He didn't look angry or judgmental, but he did look a bit worried.

Mikey shook his head. "I just wanted--" There were a million endings to that sentence. Hands around my hips, lips against my skin, touch, fucking touch. "I wanted."

Pete spread his hands. "We're all adults."

"So what are you still waiting here for?"

"Just. Big and blond, Mikes? Not really your type."

Mikey hadn't thought about it that way. Mostly he'd thought about how the guy didn't look anything like Alicia, and that was probably a good sign, that he was interested in someone like that. Mikey said, "I'm not sure quickies are really about type, so much as who's offering."

Pete rolled his eyes. "Fuck off, Mikeyway. You could have anyone in this club."

"He offered first?"

Pete gave him a pretty hard Look, but finally he said, "Okay. Just-- Just take care of yourself, I guess."

"I'm not, like, picking up a habit, here. It's just been a while, okay? Your hand gets old."

There was a second, and then Pete was around Mikey, like a monkey on steroids, and Mikey coughed a little at the impact. But then he just hugged back, because it felt warm, and right, and Mikey didn't really need anything else. Pete's hand was tight over the back of his neck and Pete was breathing a little harshly onto his shoulder. Mikey said, "Swear."

"I know," Pete said. "I just worry."

"I'm okay. I've got Ebby and Gee and the guys. I'm okay."

"You deserve better."

Mikey didn't really have much to say to that, so just held on tight until he was damn well ready to let go.

*

"I'm going home for a few days," Bob said.

"Yeah? When?" Mikey didn't look up from where he was playing dinosaurs with Ebby. "Say hi to your mom."

"My flight's in a few hours."

Mikey looked up then. He took a few breaths, because, seriously, he didn't have abandonment issues or anything, not him. "Um. You need a ride to the airport?"

"Ray's taking me."

Mikey stood up, much to Ebby's indignation. He said, "Tyrano's napping, babe. He's a tired tyrant."

Mikey walked over to where Bob was and tilted his head. "When, uh, when exactly did you tell Ray?"

"Couple of days ago, when I booked the flight."

"And that wasn't a good time to tell me?"

"If this is about needing someone to help out, I can call Lyn--"

"Fuck you," Mikey said softly enough that it wouldn't disturb Ebby, who had taken up trying to eat the sleeping Tyrano with the inexhaustible Velorapper. "This isn't fucking about being unable to take care of my child on my own, thanks."

"I didn't mean--"

"Did you think I would, like, I don't know? Tie you to a chair? Guilt you into staying? I didn't even fucking do that with my ex-wife, just in case you missed that whole thing where I signed the papers without one measly complaint."

"I thought I might not be able to go if you asked me to stay."

Mikey opened his mouth and then shut it. After a long moment he asked, "What?"

"I need some breathing space. I'll pull it together and I'll come back and it'll be fine, but I need to go out to clubs where you're not with me, banging better looking dudes in the bathroom. I need to wake up in the morning on my own and be okay, I just-- Look, you of all fucking people should get needing to sort this kind of shit."

Mikey made himself not ask "what" again, despite his overwhelming need. Instead, brilliantly, what he came up with was, "Better looking dudes?"

Bob seemed unsure of how to respond to that, and well, fair, so Mikey said, "Okay, for one thing, there was one dude, so can we not make this into some kind of Mikey-is-a-slut daytime TV drama bullshit? And for another, he wasn't better looking than you."

"Not helping."

"I don't fucking know what to say. Evidently your way of telling me you're interested is to get the fuck out."

"My way of telling you I'm interested was to join your fucking band, asshole. And then, oh, I don't know, practically live with you while you tried to get over someone who was not me."

Mikey blinked. "Joined my band? Wait, you--"

"Can we pretend we're not having this conversation? That we weren't and never did? Ray's gonna be here any second, I'm gonna say goodbye, and I'll be back in a week or so. I'm not leaving, okay? Sometimes people go on vacation and shit. You can bitch to your shrink about me leaving you with all the chores and then I'll come back and upset your whole abandonment paradigm. It'll be twelve kinds of awesome."

Mikey was quiet for a long time, considering the questions. Finally, he asked, "That what you really want?"

Bob rolled his eyes and gave Mikey a Look. Mikey said, "Go home. We'll talk when you come back."

"What does that mean?"

"It means go home. And seriously, tell your mom hi."

Bob looked at Mikey for a long time. "Well. Okay, then."

*

Mikey made it a total of fourteen hours before texting, "whr'd u put the xtra soap?" And that was only because he'd been trying to give Bob space.

It made him feel like slightly less of a codependent tool when Bob texted back almost immediately. "pantry, 3rd shlf on rght"

Mikey hesitated then, before rolling his eyes at himself and texting, "thx." The soap was right where Bob had said it would be.

For the next few hours, when things were feeling too silent, or, alternatively, he needed adult conversation, he pressed a button to light Bob's message back up. After that, Mikey called Gerard and said, "You have to come over."

"Mikey?"

"My sanity depends on it."

"Um. Can you come over here? You can bring the terror. Just, we're kind of all set up over here."

"You guys are writing?"

"I told you we were going to. When we talked last night?"

Mikey didn't really remember the night before. He'd been concentrating on taking care of his kid and not feeling stupidly bereft. Bob was on a fucking vacation for fuck's sake. And Bob had left before; this wasn't the first time or anything. "Right. Um, okay. I'll be over in a bit."

He packed up all of Ebby's essentials and buckled her into her carseat. He turned on the stereo to find that Bob's iPod was still plugged in. Mikey reached over to turn it off, or at least change it to radio, but his fingers didn't seem to want to. Fuck.

"Who the fuck doesn't take their iPod on a fucking plane?" Mikey muttered, largely to the steering wheel, and flinched guiltily when Ebby burst into song with Ella Fitzgerald.

Gerard met him at the car even though he hadn't texted an arrival time, which either met Gerard had been watching at the window, or they'd re-established their long-honed sixth-sense regarding each other while Mikey was busy ignoring the fact that he was falling in love with their bandmember. Knowing his life, Mikey would bet on the latter.

Gerard extracted Ebby from the car and said, "Hey."

"I ran out of coffee," Mikey told him, because that was easier to say than, "Bob's been making the grocery list," or, worse, "I miss Bob," which was not only revealing, but also completely unloyal to Alicia, who, yes, had divorced him, but that was beside the point. Mikey wasn't entirely sure what the point was, only that that was beside it.

"We've got plenty," Gerard said. He grabbed the Ebby Bag from the backseat and started back toward the house. Mikey followed, feeling useless.

Frank and Ray were fighting when they got inside. Ray was winning. Mikey knew because Frank had resorted to randomly pulling at Ray's hair, which was kind of like baiting a bear and expecting nothing to go wrong, and Frank's de facto way of losing poorly. Ray subdued Frank with both hands and one knee when Mikey came in the door, and said, "Heya."

Mikey asked, "Have we done a lot?" meaning, how much have I missed?

"Not really. Just working with some of the stuff Bob left us. Slow going."

"That's because asshole number one won't agree with anything I say," Frank spit.  
Mikey sighed. Ebby was going to be saying "asshooooole" to everyone at the supermarket later today, he just knew it. "That's because you have bad ideas," he told Frank calmly and sagely.

"I hate you," Frank said without much conviction.

"Well, at the moment, that kind of makes two of us."

Gerard came back with coffee and without Ebby, and made Mikey cuddle next to him on the couch. Mikey didn't fight. He wasn't a fighter.

*

Bob showed back up at midnight a couple of weeks later. Mikey was curled around himself on the couch, watching old episodes of "The Twilight Zone" and thinking about the album, the shape it was starting to take. He heard the door open and got up, calling, "Gee?"

"No," Bob called. "Um. Hey."

Mikey padded into the front hallway and said, "I thought-- I was supposed to pick you up on Friday, right?"

"I caught an earlier flight. Got a taxi."

"You could have called."

"It's late."

Mikey fidgeted, feeling a little bit like he didn't fit in his own skin, or, at the very least, his own hallway.

Bob said, "Can we just sleep on it? Unless, I mean-- I'll get it if you want me to take the guest room."

Mikey looked up at him. "I haven't been sleeping."

Bob met his eyes and after a long moment, said, "Yeah, you look kinda--"

Mikey nodded. Bob said, "C'mon," and walked past Mikey, into the house. Mikey followed.

Bob brought them into Mikey's room, then continued into the bathroom, where he started up the shower. Mikey stayed where he was, looking at the bed, not really wanting to get in it just yet. Bob said, "Mikey."

Mikey looked over at where the bathroom door was open, Bob's hoodie and undershirt tossed into the hamper. Mikey said, "I thought we were going to sleep on it."

"Planes always make me feel gross."

Mikey couldn't look away. Bob said, "And you look cold."

Mikey wasn't sure that he was, not really, but the idea of being warm was infinitely attractive. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, causing Bob to roll his eyes, and say, "You're picking that up."

Mikey quirked his lips and moved into the bathroom, where he shucked his pants. Bob did the same before checking the water. He stepped inside the shower and pulled Mikey in with him, and then there was just the hot, calming stream of water, and the expanse of Bob's chest against Mikey's. Mikey tipped his head back and let the water run over his face, into his mouth.

Bob's fingers trailed over Mikey's cheek, along the line of his lips, and Mikey closed his lips against them, a half-hearted kiss.

Bob sucked in a breath. "Is it just because I'm not her?"

Mikey opened his eyes quickly, too quickly, getting water in them. When he'd rubbed them clear and was able to look at Bob, he said, "I can't tell you she's got nothing to do with it. She-- She was my wife, and she's Ebby's mom, and I'm not really over her."

"But?" Bob asked softly, hesitantly.

"But if I wanted a rebound, I wouldn't have it with someone in my brother's band."

"Your band."

"Making it Gee's gives it a little bit more emphasis."

Bob didn't argue with that. Mikey leaned in and kissed him, both of them too tired for it to turn into anything. He handed Bob the shampoo, grabbed the soap for himself and they washed up in silence, trading products easily and without discussion between them. Mikey got out first and fetched an extra towel for Bob, and they brushed their teeth side-by-side before crawling into bed.

Mikey snuggled into Bob, comfortable and whole for the first time since Bob had left. He said through a yawn, "Mostly, it's about how quiet my head is right here, now."

Bob pulled the covers up around them.

*

Mikey woke up to Ebby's measured breathing over the baby monitor and Bob's mouth on his thigh. He looked down and whispered, "What time's'it?"

"Early," Bob said, his lips barely coming off Mikey's skin.

Mikey let his hand fall to Bob's hair, squeezing it a little between his fingers. Bob asked, "Do we need to talk?"

Mikey didn't want to. "I don't know."

Bob tensed a little. "Should we?"

"Bob," Mikey said.

"Yeah, fuck it," Bob agreed, and moved up a little, sucking Mikey into his mouth.  
Mikey pressed his free palm to his mouth, because his kid was one room over, and just, no. But fuck if he wasn't stupidly turned on by this, given how many times he'd done it, given that Bob wasn't any better, really, than most of the people he'd done it with. Bob slid his hand up Mikey's side, along his ribs, and Mikey moaned, arching into the touch.

Mikey closed his eyes and thought, hold on, thought, slow down. He didn't want this over, not just yet, not when it had just started. He knew, he got that he could have it again, but he'd known that before and been wrong.

Bob sucked cock a lot like he lived his life, with quiet, unassuming confidence, an edge of aggression wrapped around a surprising gentleness. Mikey wondered if it was how he fucked. He hoped so.

Bob slipped off of Mikey's cock and Mikey gasped into his palm. Bob said, "Second, Mikey, gimme a second."

Mikey nodded his head, only half sure of what he was agreeing to, and then bit right down into his palm when Bob got back to business. Bob worked his finger--spit wet, and oh, okay--inside Mikey, just a bit, just enough to--

Mikey whimpered a little and bit harder. He didn't even notice, not really. All he could think about was how every spark of tension inside him seemed to be contained in one place, about how much he wanted to let go. Bob moved his finger again, and Mikey did, couldn't fight it anymore.

When Bob pulled off, Mikey was panting and little bit dizzy. He blinked at Bob and said, "I think you might actually have more practice at that than me."

"Yeah, marriage puts a crimp in the kind of professional blowjob training I've been party to."

Mikey huffed a laugh. "Just for that."

He threw himself over Bob. It wasn't much of a coup, and really, if Bob had wanted to, Mikey was sure he could have just tossed him to the side. Mikey didn't think Bob was much interested in that. And yeah, okay, other than a bathroom quickie, he hadn't done this in a while, certainly not for anyone he cared about, but this had always been fun for Mikey, the simplicity of it. There wasn't much a guy could do terribly wrong once he figured out how to keep his teeth out of the picture. And Mikey knew a lot about doing things right.

Bob was thick, and he still tasted of the shower water. His skin was hot against Mikey's nose, his shortened breaths inexplicably sweet. Mikey pulled off for a second to ask, "How long?"

"Before the divorce," Bob said. "Little before."

"Bob--"

"I wasn't staying away from anything serious," Bob said. "I just couldn't have what I wanted."

"Bob," Mikey said, with slightly more urgency.

Bob looked at Mikey, his eyes weirdly open, vulnerable in the dark of the room. Mikey asked, "What if I'm not what you thought?"

"You never are."

Mikey swallowed at that, at the implications. Everything he could say at that moment, everything important, Bob already knew. "You were waiting?"

"No, no, I-- I never hoped, not really. You were married. And I like Alicia."

"I loved her." Mikey frowned. "Still do, maybe."

"But she's not who you're here with right now, right?" Bob asked like he already knew the answer.  
Mikey didn't say anything, but when he knew the answer as well, he leaned back over Bob, and finished what he'd started.

*

Gerard came over mid-morning and asked Bob, "Am I seeing things?" But he didn't wait for an answer before curling around him and walking everywhere he went with him until Bob said, "I'm not taking you to the bathroom with me, Geeway."

Gerard reluctantly let go, but the moment Bob was out of the room he fixed Mikey with a Look. Mikey glanced over at where Ebby was still enthralled by her favorite Oscar the Grouch video. Gerard said, "Mikes."

Mikey made himself look at Gerard and say, "If I destroy your band, you're totally allowed to kill me. I'll even put it in writing. We'll talk with a lawyer; I'll make it all above board."

"I think I'm gonna have bigger things to worry about if things go south between you and him."

Mikey didn't deny that. "If I didn't--" He took a breathe. "If this didn't feel different and right, I wouldn't--I would, well, I dunno, but I wouldn't play around, not like this."  
"I know that. You're the one who hasn't figured that out."

Mikey made a face at that, but stayed silent. Gerard said softly, "You're, um, more whole, with him. Than you were."

"Alicia--"

"No, I mean, after the divorce."

Mikey hated to think of himself as someone who needed other people to fill in the spaces inside, but there had never been a time when he and Gerard hadn't done just that for each other, so maybe it was genetic. Gerard, for all his loner tendencies in his youth, had always been shit at being truly alone as well. Mikey nodded.

"Also, he's kind of been in love with you for, like, forever."

"You knew?"

"Well, no, but Lyn and Ray and Jamia all did."

"And what, Ray broke under torture?"

"Uh, actually, I think Jamia thought Frank knew and accidentally told."

Mikey couldn't hide his surprise. "She usually knows those kinds of things."

"Yeah, well, I'm not entirely convinced she didn't know and told Frank in some kind of Machievellian scheme to get us all planning your epic love story and eventual gay, gay wedding."

"Not that Jamia can't be pretty Prince-like in her tactics, but I think, given the fact that Frank has been almost fucking serious about the whole thing, she also promised some serious foot-up-his-ass action if he did anything stupid, like matchmaking."

Bob sauntered back from the bathroom and Mikey tried to look guilty for talking about all this behind his back. He was pretty sure he failed.

"Nah," Gerard said thoughtfully. "Frank's a size-queen, that wouldn't have been any kind of punishment."

"Seriously, my kid is like fifteen feet away." Mikey's daughter was going to come home from elementary school every day crying about how the kids were told to stay away from her bad influence-y ways, he could just feel it.

Earnestly, Gerard told him, "Being open about sexuality with your kids is important."

Mikey buried his face in his hands, and only arched up a little when Bob put a warm, solid hand to his back--only a little.

*

Mikey held Ebby's fourth birthday party in their own backyard. He put out the huge, freestanding pool he'd bought for her, and he and Bob finally got around to erecting the swingset that had been sitting in the garage. Frank came over with about a million balloons and made everything just a shade scarier than could technically be called festive. Ebby, predictably, loved it.

Alicia showed up after all the guys, Pete, Ashlee and their kids, and Patrick and his latest girlfriend had arrived, making her the last. She was carrying a box that was as big as her torso, and clearly professionally wrapped in bright green paper with blue bows. She held it in front of her like a shield and said, "Hi," without stepping into the house.

Mikey stood back. "Hey. She's been excited about seeing you all morning."

Alicia's smile was tight. "Yeah, I-- Me too."

"Thanks for coming in town. I know it was kind of a squeeze for you."

Alicia shrugged, awkward with the box. "Is there a present table?"

"Oh, uh. Yeah." Mikey took the box, but didn't move to go set it down. "Liesh, um. There's something--"

"You got a cat?" she asked, and Mikey followed her gaze to where Cat was darting between rooms, very uncertain about all these people having traipsed through Her House.

"Sort of."

Alicia looked at him. Mikey said, "She colonized the deck, and I--uh, it rained."

"Oh."

"Alicia--"

"Bob's been living here."

Mikey blinked at her. She said, "Ebby told me. I mean, I kinda got it from the things she was saying."

"I'm with him."

He heard her swallow. She blinked a couple of times, rapidly. "Oh."

"I just didn't want--"

"I, no, I mean, that's...good."

Mikey could feel the look of doubt on his face. She laughed, a wet laugh, but one nonetheless. "No, I mean, not good, but, I dunno. At least he's someone real to me." She shook her head. "I can't explain it."

"You don't have to."

She bit her lip. "That's kind of the worst part, isn't it? That you didn't really have to tell me, and I don't owe you anything, not my permission, nothing."

Mikey thought about that. He said quietly, "But here we are."

She rubbed at the back of her neck. "Well, okay."

"Here we are," she agreed.

"You should come in," he said.

She wrapped her arms around herself and said, "I'll be there in a minute."

Mikey resisted the urge to touch her shoulder. Instead, he said, "Okay, just shut the door behind you."

*

Lyn and Gerard gave Ebby several Pixar movies for her birthday, including "Cars," which led to her walking around the house making "vroom" noises and regularly screaming at any red cars that happened to drive by, regardless of where they were. In honor of this, or possibly just to buy them both some sanity, Bob said, "Field trip time."

Mikey didn't even ask where they were going, just put his kid's shoes on her and got them both in the car. Bob reached over from the driver's seat and squeezed at the back of Mikey's neck. "Hey, at least we don't have a red car."

"It's possible my kid has an addictive personality."

"Well, yeah, Mikey. She's related to you and your brother."

Mikey opened his mouth to say something, but then spotted the travel coffees Bob had thoughtfully fit into the car's cupholders, and just took a sip instead. "Whatever."

Bob laughed, not taking his eyes off the road. They listened to Ebby very conscienscously try to start polite conversations with several of the cars on the road. She didn't seem terribly fazed by the fact that none were responding to her.

Bob parked at the Peterson Automotive Museum. Mikey said, "This is either genius, or sheer folly."

"Good thing your kid is really cute."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Mm," Bob said, and took Ebby's right hand. Mikey was already holding her left.

Halfway through the museum, Mikey called Gerard and gave the phone to Ebby, because he really kind of wanted Gerard to hear his niece spouting off stories about the lives of the classic Chevrolets. When Mikey took the phone back, Gerard said, "We have to start recording this shit."

"I'm not putting my kid on our album."

"No, I mean, for like, posterity. And when she wants to write the great American novel."

"Oh, so, like the way you guys taped all of Bandit's early oboe lessons for blackmail?"

"A parent has to plan ahead, Mikes."

Mikey smirked and hung up. Bob asked, "Gee working on a publishing deal?"

"Something like that," Mikey admitted.

Ebby was trying to climb one of the barriers in the museum, so Bob swung her up and put her on his shoulders. She said, "Bob, Bob, that car is lonely."

Her flair for drama had only increased with her ability to actually form full sentences. Bob said, "I am too, Missy. Am I less important than the car?"

"Not as pretty," Ebby said.

"I'm wounded," Bob told her.

"Daddy," Ebby turned to Mikey. "Daddy, I want down."

"Ask nicely," Mikey said.

"Please," she said, more of a huff than anything.

"Okay, but no more being a monkey."

"Uncle Pete says I am a monkey," she argued.

Bob raised an eyebrow at Mikey. "You haven't had a talk about listening to Uncle Pete?"

"It was on a list of things to get around to."

Bob laughed. "Hey monkey, you hungry?"

"Monkeys eat bananas," she told him.

Mikey said, "So, yes."

"There's a soda shop," Bob said. "I'll buy you a milkshake."

Mikey turned to him, noticing the gorgeous '57 Corvette they were walking past. He said, "Oo, will you pin me later, too?"

Bob leered for a second before telling Ebby, "Your dad wants a pin. Got anything on you I could use?"

Ebby put a hand to her hair and handed over one of her barrettes without hesitation. Bob reached over and clipped it into the collar of Mikey's shirt. When he was close enough that only Bob would hear, Mikey murmured, "Later."


End file.
